Sleeping Bushy
by Wonk
Summary: WIKTT Sleeping Beauty challenge response. An unexpected marriage is thrown upon Hermione and Severus at an insane!Dumbledore's birthday party, while Umbridge will do anything to get in the way…and annoy everyone within a fivemile radius. SSHG
1. The Party

A response to the WIKTT Sleeping Beauty challenge. An unexpected marriage is thrown upon Hermione and Severus at an insane!Dumbledore's birthday party, while Umbridge will do anything to get in the way…and annoy everyone within a five-mile radius.

**If you don't like the SS/HG pairing, leave now or forever hold your peace.**

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or the tale of Sleeping Beauty.

**Sleeping Bushy**

By Wonk

Chapter One

"The Party"

_One who signs his or her name must abide by the aforementioned rules and is magically bound to this event's activities. If one signs and refuses to tolerate the requirements of the said event, he/she is sentenced to a lifetime of duty in St. Mungo's Center for Magical Maladies and Injuries, giving former Professor Lockhart sponge baths._

"This is insane," Severus Snape muttered, sprawling his signature right below Hermione Granger's. "Absolutely mad."

"Oh come, Severus," Minerva McGonagall sniffed, smirking a bit below her red tartan hat. "It's Dumbledore's birthday, he just wants to have a bit of fun. Don't take it too seriously." 

Snape's hopes flared up, the red in his pale face clearly displaying his agitation. "So the contract isn't magically binding?"

McGonagall gave a short laugh, pushing her spectacles up her nose and quickly thwarting every bit of a dream that Snape had about the party being enjoyable, or, at least, tolerable. "Again, Severus, it's Dumbledore's birthday. And he wants to have a bit of fun." 

He crossed his arms stubbornly across his chest, glaring steadily at her as she sprawled her name below his. "It won't be anything life changing. Trust me, Professor. I'm sure it will be as boring as your lessons."

She smiled mysteriously at him and left the room, leaving Severus alone with the contract. He glanced over at it, taking a mental picture of who had been invited and agreed. The head girl and boy, Hermione and Draco…that would be interesting, if not inconvenient. 

He fought back the urge to tear it up with his bare hands, though he knew it was probably under such a heavy Protection Spell that it wouldn't even fold. 

"I've gone mad," he muttered, giving the contract's stand a swift kick. He knew he shouldn't have signed it. What was he thinking? "I've gone bloody mad." 

He began to leave, pausing to shoot a nasty glare at a portrait that suddenly decided to blurt out such randy comments as, "Who knotted your knickers?"

McGonagall's words rung in his head as he left the tiny room, mumbling angry words to himself and hands twitching in rage. "It won't be anything life changing…trust me…" 

§

"Professor, I'm sorry, but this is ridiculous." Hermione paced impatiently across his dungeon classroom, hugging her arms close to her for warmth in the chill. "And impossible. If you didn't want to go this badly, then why did you sign in the first place?"

"I honestly have no idea what came over me, Miss Granger," Snape said coldly, watching her pace from his large desk. "And if you keep chiding me like a disobedient child, you will force me to withdraw the assignment as extra credit and instead make it a requirement for you to receive a passing mark in this class."

She opened her mouth, her face red with anger, and then closed it again. It dropped open a bit yet another time, and she squinted her eyes in a threatening gaze. "You wouldn't."

"One more word…and I will."

An angry silence followed, quickly escorted by Hermione's irritated sniff. "What if I am not successful?"

A book suddenly wormed its way into her hands, levitated from the bookshelf. The title, written in peeling gold foil letters, read _Legal Counter-Charms for the Legally Hopeless_.

Hermione glared at the dusty volume in her hands, then carefully set it on the desk next to her. "And what am I supposed to do with that?"

"I believe the term is "research", Miss Granger. I know you are an annoying girl, but I didn't expect you to be so naïve." He allowed a pause so he could revel in her aggravation. "There must be something in there about breaking Birthday Party Binding charms. Believe me, I would rather do this myself, but with your class's N.E.W.T.s coming soon, I simply find I do not have the time. Enjoy."

He waved her out, and she could do nothing but comply, for the sake of her grade. And perhaps her life, knowing him.

§

"Oh, Miss Granger, you simply must wear this."

Hermione stood in Dumbledore's office, glaring in irritation at the silver whirring objects lining the shelves and the smirking portraits on the walls.

"Professor…"

Dumbledore tented his fingers under his spectacles, smiling faintly. "I insist."

"But…" Hermione stared down at the robes she was wearing. The silky fabric flowed gently around her ankles, cascading from all the right places, the colours slowly bleeding into different shades of the sunset. Yes, she wanted it. But…Dumbledore had startled her. It wasn't everyday that one would walk into the Headmaster's office to ask a question about the Order, and suddenly have their normal clothes disappear.

Or maybe it was. Hermione really didn't want to know.

"Well…yes…I like them…" she hesitated, eyeing the pink parasol that had rolled by itself to her feet. "But this just might be a bit much…"

Dumbledore continued with his faint smile. "No, it's not."

"But Professor…" The smile remained. She silently swore to herself. Stupid magical contract. 

She took the parasol and stamped off to her room, muttering to herself and spinning the pink lacy thing over her shoulder. 

"Has everyone gone mad around here, or is it just me?"

§

Dumbledore had chosen the theme "India Nights" for his party, though no one exactly knew why. But instead of the usual silence, faint Hindi music was playing in the background, accented with the appearance of mini flying carpets floating across the high, star-struck ceiling.

Snape glared at Hermione Granger with disdain, but not without the tiniest bit of amusement. She had failed to find the charm he had so graciously requested, and did nothing but sulk after he chided her for disappointing him immensely. But now that he thought of it, she might have been right. He didn't think there actually were any counter-charms for breaking any sort of magical contract.

But the amusement did not wane. 

He couldn't help but smirk a bit. Hermione was standing against the wall of the sparsely filled Great Hall, looking radiant in a set of beautiful, colour-changing dress robes, but obviously annoyed. Her arms were folded stubbornly across her chest, and a pink parasol leaned up against her leg, the laciness somewhat out-of-place against the stone, and incredibly hideous next to the sunset gradients of her wears.

Silently, in a swiftness that only few creatures could imitate, Snape approached her from the side.

"Good evening, Miss Granger."

Hermione glared at him from the corner of her eye, refusing to meet his gaze directly. "Good evening."

He mimicked her posture, giving the hideous parasol a bit of a nudge with his foot. "Must I tell you again how greatly disappointed I am with your unsuccessfulness in getting me, and perhaps yourself, out of this nightmare?"

"No, I believe you do not, Professor. And again, must I tell you that I wanted to be here?" 

"Pink parasol and all, eh?" He hooked the end around his wrist and flung it into his hand, eyeing each curve of the fabric, noting every notch in the lace. Taking his wand out of his pocket, he gently prodded the object and it melted away.

Away, Hermione thought, but only into something else.

It was a sparkling silver necklace, the same intricate pattern as the lace, heavily speckled with deep-coloured jewels of many different backgrounds. Hermione stared at him, trying to keep her mouth from dropping open.

"I believe this will compliment your robes much better," Snape said, smirking. He held it out to Hermione, who took it in reverence and calmly fastened it around her neck, the sapphire in the center casting a blue aura onto her white throat. "It is still the parasol, after all." 

Hermione didn't quite know what to say, either to thank him or slap him (thought the latter made no sense…it was just how she felt). She instead settled on a flustered smile and a grateful nod. 

They stood in silence for a while, the only noises the buzz of conversation around them and a particularly bad song in the background, until an easily recognizable voice interrupted the icy gap between words. It was Remus Lupin; there was no mistaking the calm, collected, and genuinely friendly voice. "Severus!" He called from his position beside Madam Hooch. "Stop frolicking with the students. We are in great need of your bright company." He smiled broadly, casting a tiny wink aside at Hermione, who grimaced and looked away.

Snape nodded deeply in farewell. "Miss Granger." 

After he had left, Hermione felt horribly out of place. She was the only student there besides Draco, who was hovering over the punchbowl with a suspicious bulge in his pocket. She made a mental note not to accept any drink that had already been opened. 

Finding no where else to rest her eyes, she allowed herself to observe her Potion's Professor, who was standing in obvious unrest, his arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently on the floor. 

Her hand traveled to the necklace, fingers tracing the gentle curve of the silver pensively. The once-pink parasol. The first time Snape had actually done something _nice_ for her. 

Perhaps he had already sampled the punch?

It was a thought.

Hermione watched as he edged the small group of Tonks, Lupin, Hooch, and Flitwick a bit reluctantly, folding his hands in front of him with agitation. She couldn't help noting that his movements were graceful and beautiful, the curve of his neck like a swan, his fingers had the agility of a master painter…or a Potion's Master, fittingly. The muscles in his hands were perfectly formed and smoothed from years of chopping, dicing, and grating, the skin a pure, beautiful white…

Hermione suddenly caught her breath, again inwardly cursing herself. She was going crazy. Not only had Snape had the punch, Hermione must have had a sip too…

Oh, for Merlin's sake! He was her teacher!

A loud, cheerful voice suddenly cut through the conversations and Hermione's thoughts, immediately silencing the din in the Hall. Everyone either turned or swiveled their gaze toward the long table at the front of the room.

Dumbledore was standing, holding a tall, crystal glass of glimmering champagne. 

To her horror (or pleasure, or something else she couldn't describe), she locked eyes with Snape's briefly before turning back to the Headmaster, blushing furiously. 

Dumbledore looked absolutely ecstatic. His eyes glowed their merry blue, a shade to match his robes, from behind his half-moon spectacles. His smile was wide and enthusiastic. "Thank you all," he began. "For attending my birthday parting!" 

There was a loud cheering and a few whooping sounds, overlapped by applause. 

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, tipping his champagne from side to side. "First of all, I would like to begin with a few announcements."

There were a few exchanges of uneasy glances. It was widely known that Dumbledore could be a bit…eccentric at times. Well, most of the time. Announcements during a birthday party really weren't things to be looked forward to…

"Firstly, the Forbidden Forest is simply…well, forbidden, especially for all you lovers out there."

He must have been expecting a loud, jarring laugh, but instead received a few confused murmurs and some scattered "ew"s. 

His smile fell a bit, but remained intact. "Kidding. Anyway…Second, I would like to declare that this is not only a birthday party…but also, in fact a wedding."

This time he got a louder response, though it again probably wasn't what he was looking for. Most people, thinking he was kidding again, burst out into loud peals of laughter, while their colleagues eyed them skeptically. 

"I wasn't joking," Dumbledore said quickly, taking a sip from his glass of champagne. "And no, when you're as old as I am, one finds it difficult to become drunk. Well, my dear friends, you must know that I live for the unusual…" more glances and nods. "and I have decided on that. And I was thinking…what could be more enjoyable than a party? _Two parties_! Celebrating two joyous occasions! So…two of you, though presently completely unaware of your current status, will be married within the matter of an hour."

Hermione pressed against the wall, her eyes squeezing shut. He had completely lost it. What gave Dumbledore the right to do that? What on earth was he thinking?

Maybe if she couldn't see him, he couldn't see her.

Closing her eyes did nothing to block out his voice, however. 

"Oh, I think it's a wonderful idea, Minerva. Now please, do sit down. Anyway…" There was a lengthy pause in which Hermione's heart began to beat faster, the cold stone pressing against her back, the necklace beginning to weigh heavily on her neck. "I am proud and incredibly pleased to announce that my choice of the betrothed will be…"

_He should be sent off to visit Lockhart_, Hermione thought with despair. _Permanently._

"Professor Severus Snape and Hermione Granger. Congratulations!"

Hermione opened her eyes and stared at Snape, who was staring back at her with something that looked like a mix between disbelief and disgust. Hermione, a bit disgusted herself, looked up at Dumbledore as if to question his sanity.

Oh no, sanity had left him a long time ago.

He met her challenging gaze with a broad smile and a wink. 

And then, Hermione knew, he had planned it all along.

~~~~~~~~ 

Please review! Next chapter coming soon: "The Curse"


	2. The Curse

Chapter Two

"The Curse"

The hall had grown silent, the light tittering of the older ladies stopping abruptly while the Indian music faded away. Hermione stared up at the ceiling, face burning, to find that the miniature magic carpets were all in a ring around the center of the hall, as if observing them. A few tense seconds later, they burst into hundreds of white rose petals, littering the stone ground with smooth, snowy pieces of velvet.

Hermione looked down to her robes, which had faded from a blushing pink to a startling white with accents of silver. Thinking that it probably wasn't a great idea to be wearing a parasol-in-disguise around her neck, she immediately unfastened it just in time for it to burst into a bouquet of pink roses and daises, tied with a wide ribbon of white lace.

Snape stared at her, horrified. In what seemed to be taking tons of courage, he strode over smoothly and pushed his face close to hers. Hermione nervously noticed that his collar had transformed into a bowtie, and his overcoat had shortened and separated into two coattails. 

"Did you plan this?" he asked her, his baritone voice filled with antipathy. "Is this some sort of prank?" 

"No, Professor." From the tone of her voice, he could tell that she was stating the truth. "And I don't think this is much of a good joke, myself."

He turned and they observed their surroundings together, the bundle of flowers hanging limply at Hermione's side. Every single pair of eyes was on them, some confused, some amused, and some disgusted. The couple harboured all three of these emotions.

"What are you waiting for?" Dumbledore called our merrily. "Let the wedding begin!" 

Hermione instantly found herself on a white aisle, Snape standing to her right, his face livid. Dumbledore stood before them, holding a book that greatly resembled a Bible. 

He smiled widely. "Nothing pleases me more than bringing people I deeply care about together in love."

Snape finally snapped. Good thing, because if he hadn't, Hermione was sure that she would have. And she didn't need to be expelled quite yet.

"This isn't love!" Snape spat out. "This is complete _insanity_! You are trying to marry me off at your birthday party, and to a STUDENT! And not just any student, but _Hermione Granger_! She's only eighteen! And what would her parents think?" 

"They are perfectly fine with it," Dumbledore sniffed. "They actually thought it was about time their daughter got a love life…and such that it involved a fine man like yourself." 

Hermione's mouth snapped shut, her face flushed with an anger beyond words. 

"But…but…" Snape stuttered. "I didn't agree to this!" 

"Oh, but you did, dear boy." The roll of parchment appeared in Dumbledore's hand, both Hermione and Severus's signatures glowing gold. "So unless you would rather go and visit Lockhart, I suggest that you marry the girl. And if not, I've heard that our dear, former professor would like some help with getting to the hard-to-reach areas…" 

Snape closed his eyes, and Hermione was doing the best she could to not vomit all over everyone present. Snape…her husband…it was more than she could bare. Perhaps they could divorce…yes, that would be an option. Right away…right after the wedding. She stared at him with disgust, him with his greasy hair…though now, actually, this close to him, it looked soft to the touch…the long ugly nose…it had character, and a sense of nobility…the vicious demeanor…that was mysterious and just a bit sexy… 

Good Merlin, the madness would eat them all.

§

Snape was fighting the temptation to hex the entire audience into the next century. Nothing seemed more appealing right then than the feel of his fingers on the smooth wood of his wand, the pleasure of seeing Lupin (who's gentle laughter was loud and clear in the front row of the magically conjured pews), fall over, helplessly locked in the Body-Bind curse. Or to see McGonagall's bogies sprout wings and attempt to attack her tartan-sporting head. 

He must have been smiling with the thoughts, because when he opened his eyes, Hermione was glaring at him with a sense of confusion and anger.

"Do you find something amusing, Professor?"

"No," he calmly replied, maniacal grin fading away. "Not at all."

"Splendid! Absolutely splendid!" Dumbledore nimbly opened the thick book, his fingers brushing over the old parchment. "Let's get this thing started, shall we?"

Hermione and Snape stood in stony silence as Dumbledore began to say words that neither of them were hearing. Her heart was thumping nervously in her chest, her thoughts filled with regrets in not trying to find a counter-charm to break the contract. But somehow, after seeing just for a moment a look of something…a feeling she had never seen…reflected in Snape's eyes, her mind tumbled into another whirlpool of emotion. And this one wasn't half-bad. 

Severus wasn't quite sure if he was thinking, or feeling, anything. Or if he would any time soon. His eyes drank in his surroundings, the pure white of Hermione's robes, the flowers held delicately in her gentle hands, the large brown eyes… 

_Snap out of it man,_ he told himself. A student, remember? This will not_ happen!_

"If anyone…"

Both Hermione's and Snape's hearts jumped, immediately recognizing the familiar words. 

"…has a reason on why these two shall not be wed, speak now or…"

Snape began to open his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was interrupted by the Headmaster-On-Drugs.

"And must I remind you, Severus…sponge baths."

He flinched visibly as the guests broke into a loud roar of laughter. He had to admit, holding Hermione in his arms was a lot more appealing than getting intimate with Lockhart on a daily basis. 

Oh Merlin, holding Hermione in his arms. That had been something he had forgotten about. 

His eyes again met with the girls, and he had the fleeting feeling that she was thinking the same thing. Her chin lifted up defiantly, eyes locked, and her gaze seemed to say, "I'm strong enough for you."

Severus had no doubt she would be.

"All right, then! So…"

Suddenly a gentle, distinct cough came from the back of the hall, and the couple heard the creaking of the pews as people turned to see who had intruded. 

"_Hem hem_."

Hermione and Snape whipped around, their eyes aglow with frustration, to see the woman they had heard, but had been dreading. There, in the center of the aisle, stood a squat woman with frizzy, curly hair pinned tightly to her head, a black bow pressed beside her ear. The flat nose, the double chin, and the sagging skin of her face held the unmistakable impression of a toad, and her voice was shrill and girly.

Umbridge was here.

The clear, high-pitched cough was released from the confines of her throat once again. 

"_Hem hem._"

Dumbledore lifted his eyebrows and closed the book, keeping his place with his thumb. "May I help you?"

"I," she began, and everyone groaned, sliding down in their seats and covering their faces with their hands. Hermione and Severus saw Dumbledore slouch visibly in instant annoyance. "…am appalled and deeply hurt that I was not invited to this occasion."

"Yes," Dumbledore began. "But…"

"And of Professor Snape's! And I was not even informed! What nerve…"

Hermione and Snape exchanged nervous glances, knowing that this could be their chance to get out of this situation unscathed…or cursed into oblivion.

"Madam, I can assure you that…"

"I believe…" All of the girly-ness was gone out of her voice, resulting in a flat, harsh tone that sent everyone even lower in their seats. "that you did not even give me a benefit of a chance! And to think, after all of my services in this school…"

Hermione heard Snape sigh, and she managed to whisper.

"I don't know, maybe it will turn out well?"

"_Hem hem_. Miss Granger! Aha!"

Uh oh…

The toad-lady walked closer, quickly down the aisle, toward them. Hermione started backing away, feeling her back begin to press into something that seemed like a hand. Snape's voice whispered in her ear, "Wait."

"I should have known! Always the troublemaker, always the little know-it-all! And to a teacher! What have you done to this school? It used to be known as a fine institution…" 

Hermione could no longer hear her. Snape's strong hand had grasped her arm, and she embarrassedly admitted to herself that her skin burned under his touch.

Her mind began to come into focus just in time to hear a shouted curse. 

"_Dormons romacier_!"

Everyone watched in despair as Hermione's eyes fluttered closed, her body crumpled to the ground, Snape's hand still refusing to let go of her arm. 

"HERMIONE!"

Umbridge chuckled lightly, and then cleared her throat again.

"_Hem hem_. I believe I shall be on my way now. Farewell, everyone!"

Her toad-like form just seemed to melt away, while the cackling of someone that can only be described as eviler than Voldemort faded into the depths of the school.

§

"She is still breathing, Severus. Relax." 

Dumbledore's voice was calming, but the Potion's Master found that it did nothing to soothe his final nerves.

"Please, after all of this," he muttered. "Don't send me to St. Mungo's."

"Joking already, Severus?" Dumbledore replied, good-naturedly.

"No. I'm serious."

"Oh…well…of course, I won't. It's not your fault that this happened."

Snape flopped down in the chair beside Hermione's bed in the Infirmary, watching her with a depth that was impossible for the Headmaster to fathom. His temporary look of something resembling a tender side was suddenly replaced by a sneer.

"She sure is an annoying girl."

"You're doing nothing to cover your temporary blow, Severus," Dumbledore said with a faint smile. "You don't have to lie to me."

"Well…" he shrugged, crossing his arms across his chest. "I wasn't lying about that part." 

"But you care for her."

"No. She's a student."

"So? She's of age."

Snape threw a hefty glare in Dumbledore's direction, but instead of the effect he had been hoping for…one that would make him shut up, the Headmaster instead took this as an encouragement to continue.

"She's a brilliant girl, and pretty, I suppose, in an odd way. You two make such a good pair." 

"She's disappointing, couldn't even find a simple counter-…"

Dumbledore's smile widened into that sage, all-knowing, annoying-as-hell kind of grin. "Counter-charm to break the contract? I'm disappointed in you, Severus, I would have thought you knew that there was no such spell."

"I just thought…"

"That you wanted to see Miss Granger, again? Perfectly understandable, Professor. Another reason why your betrothal, on my part, was such an outstanding creation…"

"With all due respect, Headmaster, I think you're losing your mind."

Dumbledore chuckled lightly, placing a hand on the table next to Miss Granger's uneaten jelly. It had been placed there in false hope that Hermione would wake up shortly, but it was apparent that their expectations were not going to be met anytime soon.

Severus ran a hand through his hair before proceeding to poke the gelatin with a careful finger. "Odd creation."

"Yes, it is, actually. But stop changing the subject. Tell me that you like her."

"No."

"Fine, then you adore her."

"No, I do not."

"…madly in love with her."

"Headmaster, please shut up."

There was a pause as Dumbledore walked to Hermione's bedside and took her limp hand in his. His Cheshire grin had faded into one of sadness as he brushed a stray, bushy clump of hair from the girl's face. "I will do everything in my power to find out what she was cursed with," he said in assurance. "And what it will take to bring her back to full awareness." 

"Let me guess," Snape replied bitterly, beginning to rise from the chair. "And then I must marry her?"

"I would not have it any other way."

Severus sighed as Dumbledore exited with a cheerful goodbye. The Headmaster had left he and Hermione alone, and probably by no mere accident. Surely, he must know by now that Severus was nowhere near being a sentimental man. Especially when it came to Hermione Granger. 

There was just a moment where he observed her pseudo-sleeping form, listening to an unsteady breath that he realized was his own.

Despite himself, he let his long fingers linger over Hermione's hand, which was still warm with the life trapped inside of her.

"I-" He stopped speaking, immediately surprising himself. What was he thinking? Speaking to a girl that was as good as dead? But he couldn't help it. His hand curled around hers, intensifying the confused feelings that were reeling about in his mind. "I…do not love you." 

Embarrassed, confused, and feeling like blowing something to pieces, Severus Snape exited the Hospital Wing. His signature black cloaks flowed behind him, fading away into the shadows of clichéd entertainment.

~~~~~~~~~

Thank you to: Romm (indeed, it does :)), The-Rouge-Thorn (I know, there does. One of the reasons WIKTT is so great), aPPle-FrrEAk (original? Wow, I seem to be on a roll :)), Rosmerta (ooh...a fan illustration _would_ be nice...), KDarkMaiden, whyMMM, Electryone (Hm...hopefully I'll continue to be successful!), JennyRad (thank you for the compliment :)), Voldie On Varsity Track, piper, Meriadoc / Celithrathien, LJ Yolo, Amethyst9, nightcrawler7082 (I'm very flattered to be your favorite, though I wonder if you're just pulling me leg a bit...for reasons I don't know...or...yeah...), DarkShadowFlame (don't die too much, I still need you to review! :)). 

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review!


	3. The Bribe

A/N: Argh, I want more romance...

Oh well, we'll have to wait.

Chapter Three

"The Bribe"

"This is getting ridiculous," Snape observed, watching from the corner of the library as numerous students, mostly Gryffindors, scattered themselves amongst the shelves. Dumbledore sat next to him, slightly amused, gazing at an enraged Madam Pince who was scolding a first year for dropping one of the books in the toilet.

"They are all just eager to help Miss Granger, Severus."

"Yes, either that or they're eager to receive the hundred Galleon reward you offered." 

"Everyone needs a bit of incentive now and then."

"Hermione never-" Snape caught himself, immediately noticing that not only was he about to compliment the girl, he had called her by her first name. He knew that there was no possible way that Dumbledore had missed his slip of tongue.

He hadn't.

"Yes, well, there is no one quite like her, is there?"

Severus ignored his patronizing question and posed, "Why is this so difficult? She's been unconscious for a week. Someone should have found the cure by now."

"Well…" Dumbledore learned toward him from across the table, his voice lowering as his bright blue eyes shone clearly through the half-moon glasses. "The problem is that no one's heard of the curse before."

Snape's stomach suddenly settled into his groin, his mood taking a downfall worse than usual. "Then we have no chance but to dispose of her."

"Come, Severus, don't be such a Negative-Nancy." Dumbledore ignored the questioning expression he received from the younger man and continued. "I am thinking…I know…if someone finds Professor Umbridge, she will have the answer we're looking for."

Snape settle back in his chair, rolling his eyes. "Oh yes, that should be simple enough, especially as she seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth."

"Nonsense. She's around, somewhere. And that's where you come in."

Snape lowered his dark eyebrows, trying to bite back the bitterness in his voice. The library seemed to have grown rather quiet, as Madam Pince was standing in the center with her wand out, a very severe look on her aging face.

He turned his attention back to Dumbledore. "I, Professor?"

"Yes. I believe you could do a splendid job." He smiled warmly, pulling a cloth bag out of his robe pocket. "Lemon drop?" He turned his back against the librarian, guarding the pouch with an unusual fervency. "Don't tell Madam Pince." 

Severus waved them away with a dismissive hand. "No, thank you. Anyway, I do not want to sound greedy, Professor, but I wonder what is in this for me…" He had to cram at least one snide remark in. "Besides the sheer joy of Miss Granger being back in my classroom."

"Why, having her as your wife, of course."

Snape clenched the table, measuring the Headmaster up to size. There was no way he could take on the most powerful wizard in the world, even if he was a bit senile. And annoying. Really, really annoying.

"And," Dumbledore added. "The position as Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, beginning next year." 

Snape stared at him, not knowing what to say.

"Everyone," Dumbledore said with a little smirk. " needs a little incentive now and then, Severus."

§ 

It was frigid in his dungeon office, but Snape refused to light so much as a candle. The few torches were light enough to pack by, and he wasn't expecting a visitor anytime soon, so it didn't seem like there was any need.

A loud, heavy knock on his door was the last thing he had expected to hear…that was, until the guests carefully entered. There, standing somewhat sheepishly in the dim light, was the giant form of Hagrid, flanked by a frazzled Harry Potter and an indifferent Lupin. 

Hagrid lifted his hand in some sort of greeting. "How're ye doing, Professor? We jus' wanted te know if ye needed any help with packin' and such."

Snape, however, had lost all of his patience long ago. "I am not doing very well, thank you, as I have been sent on a quest to find the ugliest woman in the world, who's probably hiding underwater in a submarine in Nova Scotia…"

"Whatsat, now?" Hagrid asked, scratching behind his ear. "Some sorta sandwich? Dunno if that would do 'er much good, you'd think it'd get soggy…"

Think calm thoughts. Think happy thoughts.

"No, Hagrid."

"Erm…well," Lupin cut in, before the Groundskeeper could say any more. "The thing is, Dumbledore has ordered us to help you. Be your sort of…Fairy Godmothers, I suppose. If you believe in that sort of thing." He gave a tired smile in an obvious attempt to keep Severus from zapping him.

"Yeah," Harry muttered, his voice indistinct. "Ron was asked before Hagrid, but all he said was that you were a greasy git and you were stealing Hermio-"

"But we're still glad to have Hagrid along," Lupin covered, elbowing Harry severely in the side. "And we believe we can do a lot to help you."

"But how…"

"Harry and I can Apparate, Severus, and we're ready to assist you in any was possible. Just call on us by floo. And Hagrid…well…Hagrid is Hagrid. He's only here to annoy you...and take over your job while you're away." 

Snape's mouth hung open, horrified. How could that doof teach his classes? He couldn't even talk correctly! How could he handle it, the exact art that is potion making... 

Well, Snape thought, that bloody figured. 

"'Ell, Professor," Hagrid lumbered over to him and shifted a heavy arm around Severus's neck until he felt like he was going to collapse. "We're with ya all the way."

That was the final straw. "Everyone…" he growled through clenched teeth, feeling like he was going to explode into millions of tiny pieces. "…out…now."

They finally got the hint that they weren't exactly welcome and carefully exited the room. Lupin was the last one out, and before shutting the door, he peeked through and said, in his gently teasing voice, "I'll be looking forward to attending your wedding."

§

"Name."

Snape fingered his wand in aggravation, the wizards constantly fluttering by him adding to his anxiety. The heightened security at the Ministry of Magic had not only become an inconvenience, but almost downright rude.

"Professor Severus Snape," he said flatly as the security wizard eyed him over suspiciously. He didn't even know why he had to answer, the sticky piece of paper on his chest clearly read, _Hello, my name is_ **Severus Snape**!

"Snape, eh?" the balding man flipped through a few pages on his clipboard. "Says here that you're a former 'Eater. I'm gonna have to take your wand…and pat you down."

Every muscle in Snape's body went tense. "Excuse me…you're going to what?" 

He walked away from the checkpoint feeling extremely violated and naked without his wand. He kept reaching for the empty space in his pocket, wishing he could have at least kept a _bit_ of his dignity.

It seemed like Death Eater has-beens couldn't go anywhere, especially the staff room at Hogwarts, without being molested in some way.

He was _Snape_, for Merlin's sake.

He sighed angrily, knowing there was nothing he could do to get it back before he left. He would just have to live without it, which might be incredibly hard if he managed to run into Fudge, or, even worse, one of the Weasley's. Especially the boy…Percy. He had been even more unbearable than Hermione.

Argh…Hermione. Couldn't he stop thinking about her for _one_ minute?

Obviously not. Not like he was helping himself by trying to get her soft brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, her lips…

Out of his bloody mind.

He pushed past a flurried crowd of wizards to get to the golden gilded gates of a lift, receiving various mumbled curses as he elbowed them aside, only to greeted by two familiar bug-eyes as soon as he had stepped inside. Two paper aeroplanes quickly followed him, flapping idly near his ears, before the gates noisily clanked shut.

"Why, hello Severus. I predicted I might be seeing you again."

Oh, Merlin.

There stood Trelawney, the thick-glasses wearing, airy-voiced, faux-Seer and former Divination Professor in all her praying mantis glory. She carried her tall, thin frame with a stiff dignity, staring down at him with a false sense of authority. It was just then that Snape noticed that not one other person had joined them in the lift, nor had they when they passed "Level seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports". On the contrary, the Interdepartmental memos had flown out through the grilles at tremendous speed. He didn't have to guess why. 

"Ms Trelawney," he said in a hesitant greeting.

The tone of her voice had suddenly lost her airiness. "Severus, my title is "Professor". I would wish that you would treat me with the same respect as I treat you."

"Unless I'm incorrect, Silibus, I believe you have not been a Professor for two years now." 

Her face was turning red; her eyes growing larger behind her glasses. "It's Sibyll. And for your information, I now have a new job in which I am well-known and well-respected. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do." 

The cool female voice said, "Level four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being, and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office, and Pest Advisory Bureau." 

"Hey, Trelawney!" a drawling voice yelled as soon as the grates opened. "You're late! Get over to the Owlery and start cleaning up those droppings!"

Snape managed to see her blush deeply before the golden gates rolled shut again, leaving him alone with a new little memo fluttering by his ear. A bit annoyed by its persistence in being near him, he glanced upward and saw that it flinched lightly at his movement. It was for him. 

Seeing that he had some time before he reached…wherever it was he was going, he snatched it from the air and it immediately unfolded itself, relaxing in his palm. 

A short sentence was sprawled in cursive across the page, the warm green ink glistening in the yellow light of the lift. Snape read it carefully, then reread it, trying not to believe what it was saying. 

_Ah, Severus, I thought you might need a little help as of now._

"Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services."

As soon as the doors opened, Snape was unpleasantly greeted with the looming site of Dumbledore, looking warmly down at him through his half-moon glasses. His robes were the darkest of blues, speckled with silver stars. 

"Come boy," he said, beckoning with his aging hand. "I can't help but feel you're a bit lost, and Miss Granger won't be young forever, you know. I think I have a few ideas…"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THANKS TO: Sherri, Angus Hardie, Amethyst9, Cassandra22 (x2), Rosmerta, piper, JennyRad, KDarkMaiden, Brittany Malfoy, whyMMM, nightcrawler7082 (Umbridge is the DADA teacher in Harry's 5th year. I keep forgetting you're not allowed to read the books. But if you want to know right away who some characters are without waiting for me to update, I recommend visiting the Harry Potter lexicon (search for it)), The-Rouge-Thorn, JoeBob1379, Tracy3, DarkShadowFlame, Voldie On Varsity Track, usapie28, Meriadoc / Celithrathien, kittypilla, Kyra Invictus Black, pumpkinpiebaby.

Sorry this chapter wasn't as good as the last.

Please review!


	4. The Prophecies

  


Chapter Four

"The Prophecies"

The first thing that hit Snape as he entered the room was that it smelled, and badly. The stone floor was invisible under a thick layer of droppings, the smell musty with a mix of hay and decomposition. The impatient rustles of feathers were constant sounds, the owls trying to rest on their industrial-looking metal bars far above his head, but still eyeing the stringy woman below them with contempt. Trelawney lingered in the corner, cleaning up areas of the floor about five square inches at a time. 

"_Scourgify_," she muttered glumly, banishing the small area of filth into nothingness. "Thoroughly, dang it, _thoroughly_."

"I think," Snape said deeply, clearing his throat. "You might have to put a bit more heart into it if you want to achieve greater results, Sibilus."

"For the last time, it's Sibyll, _Mr_ Snape. And I get paid by the hour."

"Well…" Snape suddenly remembered that he had come here for her help, and figured that the best way to receive it wouldn't be in exchange for insults. But he just couldn't help it. "Well, good to see you're doing a better job than you did at Hogwarts."

She stopped waving her wand in a foolish attempt to appear a bit serious. Her eyes glared at him steadily from behind her thick glasses. When she spoke, her voice was back to being light and airy instead of drawn and angry. "Professor, I find that your aura is causing discord in my environment."

Snape chose to ignore her former comment. "Look, the only reason I'm here is to ask for your help. For Dumbledore's sake."

"I believe that Dumbledore's sake is only of your own."

Snape sighed, wishing that he had his wand. "No. But Dumbledore told me that you were actually right, sometimes." He gritted his teeth, preparing to brace himself for what he was to say, next. "And I need you to…tell me where to go."

He saw, with disappointment, that a faint but triumphant smile was tugging at the corners of Trelawney's lips. 

"I would say I am surprised to hear you ask this, but, of course, I am not."

Snape tried as hard as he could not to roll his eyes, instead attempting to explain his position. "Well, that Umbridge woman has cursed a student…" The name had caused the desired effect, as the woman's face became exceptionally hard. "And Dumbledore has placed it upon me to find the counter-curse, as it is previously unheard of. I was wondering if you would have any tips on finding her." 

Trelawney paced slowly over to him, her robes gliding grossly across the layer of droppings. She looked angry and enthused all at the same time. "Umbridge." The name was like poison from her mouth. Surely, the remembrance of her sacking (and Dumbledore's reconsideration of taking her back) had not faded after the past two years. "I will help, as long as it leads to that woman's destruction. But I must know more to make completely…accurate predictions."

Snape crossed his arms nervously, about to lean against the circular wall but thinking twice about it. He settled on rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "What do you need to know?"

"My inner eye has become slightly hazy…through no fault of my own." She gazed up at the tall ceiling of the Owlery, misty eyed. Then her sense of mysterious other-worldliness disappeared and she started checking off a list of objects on her fingers. "First, I must know the name of the afflicted…"

"Hermione Granger," he answered quickly, not letting the tone of his voice falter the tiniest bit. 

Trelawney looked a bit surprised, and he knew for sure that she hadn't seen that coming. "And your relationship with this student?"

Severus lowered his eyebrows dangerously, mocking the gesture of reaching for his wand, which was being held by someone other than him. He really didn't like the thought of other people handling his most private object. "Student-teacher relationship, strictly." 

"Oh…I don't think so." The smile was most definitely there now, and Snape had the sudden urge to rip her so-called "Inner Eye" completely out of its non-existent socket. "There must be more than that, otherwise you wouldn't be the one looking for Umbridge. Now tell me, otherwise I will not be able to tell you what you need to know." 

Somehow, Snape could sense that she really didn't need to know this bit of information. But he didn't want to take his chances, as his new teaching position still hung in the balance. 

So he spoke, choosing his words carefully. "Dumbledore has arranged amaiafnlsell…" 

Trelawney cleared her throat in an expression annoyingly similar to Umbridge's. "Excuse me?" 

"I said," Snape said clearly, then immediately quieting his voice. "Dumbledore has arranged our marriage…"

She clapped her hands loudly in genuine enthusiasm, her laughter evident in the echo off the round walls. "I knew it! I _knew it_!"

"Of course you did," Snape muttered, his eyebrows now lowered as far as they could possibly go and the edge in his voice intensifying. "You know everything." 

"But of course," she sniffed, wiping away the trace of tears from her eyes while trying to suppress another giggle. "Dumbledore has completely lost his marbles, hasn't he?" 

"I thought you would have known that, already." Yes, it was true. It was. Otherwise, he wouldn't be here right now, bargaining with a faux-Seer for a student of his to become his wife and lover, even if that did contain a new teaching career. "And as he is my employer, I have no choice but to calmly and indifferently listen to any criticism of him, so I cannot acquiesce to answer your question." 

"Always such big words, Severus," she said with a shake of her head. "Though I predicted you would be using them, so I looked them up in this wonderful thing called a "dictionary" before I arrived for work this morning…"

Snape did the best he could not to wring her neck. He knew he could hurt someone without magic, but she was still a woman. Even if she did deserve to die at the moment. 

"_Sibyll_, please just tell me what I need to do." 

She placed a hand underneath her chin, trying to feign a look of perplexity. She was actually doing quite a good job, as her eyes soon clouded over again and her mouth became slack. "Go see a Weasley."

"Um…excuse me?"

"Weasley…"

Crap. Weasley? That had been the last family he had wanted to run into, and now he had to go _looking for one of them_. What kind of witch's brew had this woman been sampling lately?

"All right, then…" Snape began to carefully walk for the door, gritting his teeth to hold back the stream of curse-words that wanted to escape.

"Oh, and Severus, I hope you'll be a good father, for I see you and Hermione giving birth to at least ten children."

He shuddered. "I believe that is incorrect, as I am determined to have Dumbledore's plans foiled, thank you very much. Nor will I ever, with anyone, have ten…" 

"And," she added with a bit of an absent-minded smile. "You will have an amazing se-" 

Severus didn't wait for her to continue. Instead, he had slammed the door shut mid-sentence and was quickly making his way toward the lifts, trying to purge his mind from inappropriate thoughts of Hermione Granger.

It wasn't working.

§

The lift came to a noisy stop, the gates grinding slightly as they opened, glinting in the sunlight coming from the artificial windows. The cool female voice said, "Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services. 

Severus stepped out of the lift, feeling the grates immediately shut behind him. Each footfall was careful, each breath taken deeply, as he felt himself becoming closer and closer to the doom of his conceit. Conversing with a Weasley was something he had come to loathe, especially if it involved that boy, Percy, or any of his miniatures. But they _were_ friends of Hermione.

And, he supposed, any friend of Hermione's would eventually have to be a friend of his. 

Bloody Dumbledore.

He ignored the curious stares that followed him as he swept gracefully across the floor, repeatedly doused in artificial sunlight from the fake windows. He couldn't help feeling a bit out of place, though he knew he would never admit the evidence of that feeling to anyone, in his sweeping black robes and solemn demeanor. The babble that surrounded him was cheerful and welcoming, and he even got a tiny wave from a wizard he vaguely recognized. 

He walked past the Auror offices to the other side of the level, slowing his pace as much as possible to prolong the time before he ran into Weasley. But to his misfortune, neither an anvil nor an unidentified flying object fell on him as he made his way through the building. 

He gritted his teeth as he slowly stopped at a cubicle that had every inch of the corkboard walls taken up by posters and diagrams of various Muggle appliances and electronics. A toy aeroplane was in pieces on the desk, black plastic parts spread over the little clean space that remained. Crammed up against the wall was a photograph of the Weasley family, all members slumped against each other, asleep. The youngest, Ginny, was curled up on the floor like a cat at Ron's feet, breathing deeply. 

Arthur Weasley was scribbling down notes on a piece of parchment, and snapped around immediately when Snape cleared his throat.

Though Mr Weasley was several years his senior, he had the youthful energy and naivety of many of Severus's students. His bright red hair, the family trademark, was combed over in back to barely hide the shining pink spot of skin. His pointed black hat lay on his desk, forgotten. 

"Why, Professor," he said good-naturedly, though Snape could detect a bit of anxiousness. "You're the last person I expected to see. What brought you to the ministry?" 

Weasley scrambled to his feet, probably in order not to feel dwarfed by Severus, though even standing the height difference was quite intimidating. 

Severus leaned forward, hoping his pale face wasn't showing any hints of red. "Someone told me that you could help me. I'm looking for Umbridge."

The entire office space fell quiet; the rustling of the parchment stopped and the voices died mid-word. Snape peeked over the wall of the cubical to see that everyone was staring toward them, looks of horror written across their face. 

Wide eyes were prominent as Weasley gave a nervous laugh and said loudly. "A bridge? Really, Professor, you live in Scotland! I thought you would _know_ where the Firth of Fourth bridge is…"

After an incredibly long period of two seconds, the employees averted their eyes in disinterest and went back to work. Mr Weasley let out an uncomfortable sigh. Eyeing Snape evilly, he leaned close and whispered, "I advise you not to say that name around here. She has done some very unsavory things concerning payment in this department, and in the all around Ministry. So unless you want to get mobbed…"

Snape nodded coldly. "I understand, but the paychecks for employees of the Ministry do not concern me. I need to find her."

Arthur crossed his arms across his chest, biting his lip and thinking heavily. "No one around here has seen her for a number of months. We assumed she died or something of that manner. Or finally went off the deep-end…more so…from that centaur attack back a few years ago." 

"I assure you that she has been quite mad for many decades," Snape said impatiently. "But I do not care. I still need to find her."

Arthur paused, looking at him with suspicion in his gaze. "Why, exactly?"

"My business is my own."

"Well, that depends." He sat back down in his chair, clearly more comfortable with the dark man than he had been moments before. "If your needs in finding her concern us, and in a negative way, I don't think…"

"My attentions," Snape furiously interrupted, now failing to keep his cool. "are the equivalent to anyone's in this Ministry. For Merlin's sake, do not for a minute think that I'm interested in _courting her_…"

The mood suddenly lightened, and for the first time Severus could remember, he had made someone laugh.

"Merlin's beard, no!" Arthur said, fighting off a fit of chuckles. "I expect more of you then that, Professor."

"I would certainly hope so," Snape replied with a sniff.

The chuckles died away and Weasley's tone became serious yet again. "I'll tell you what. I can help you, or at least I know someone who can. Come have dinner at the Burrow with us tonight, and we can discuss it more there."

Snape tried to hold back a grimace, but instead hesitantly agreed. "All-all right."

"Good." Weasley gave a loud sigh. "Now, in the mean time, can you help me figure out this aero-thing? Muggle transportation completely baffles me…"

§

The Burrow was crowded and teeming with odd things that Snape had never seen in his own home, a cold stone manor in the Lake District. But the small town of Ottery St. Catchpole was quiet and teeming with the mysterious, this feeling mostly centering in the bustling Weasley home. The grass in the yards rustled sporadically with the random escaped gnome, the windows twinkled merrily in the dusky night. 

At least, Snape thought, he had his wand back.

Snape had to admit that dinner was delicious; Mrs Weasley was a better cook than anyone (perhaps besides her husband) gave her credit for. The turkey with the garlic sauce was better than anything he had tasted at Hogwarts, which was a rare defeat. The company, however, was somewhat lacking.

For the first half of the meal, the Weasleys acted like he wasn't there, even though his black hair stood out greatly among the six other fiery heads at the table. Arthur Weasley sat at the end of the table near the door, his wife his opposite, while Severus was flanked by Bill and Charlie. On the other side of the table from him sat the smirking twins.

During the first fifteen minutes, conversation centered mainly around Mrs Weasley's scorn of the twins and their joke shop, which had just opened in Diagon Alley. Fred (or was it George?) argued that business was going well, while their mother countered with the knowledge that people with that kind of career would never find a respectable position in society.

"Come on, Mum," Fred/George said with a hint of a whine, while Severus tried to act extremely interested in rolling a pea across his plate. "It's not like we're going to end up dead in a shady café for selling someone an overpriced Skiving Snackbox." 

"Well, I'd like to see you say that at your funeral," she shot back testily, giving them a glare that could set water aflame.

Mr Weasley hurriedly cleared his throat, shooting Snape an apologetic glance. "Charlie, didn't you say you saw someone resembling Umbridge sometime back?" 

The table fell quiet, and Severus felt all eyes turning to him. He coughed a bit uncomfortably and looked up from his plate.

Charlie sounded unsure of himself. "Yeah…I thought I saw a glimpse of her in Normandy about a month ago, when I was reassigned to France. I don't know if she's still there, though." 

Everyone stared at Snape as he finally said something for the first time after entering the house. "I desperately need to find her."

"I forgot to ask again, Professor," Mr Weasley added. "Why, exactly, do you need to?" 

"She cursed a student," Snape brusquely answered. "And we don't know how to lift it. That's why I must find her."

There was a moment of silence, broken by Fred/George whispering, "Who?" 

Severus swallowed, buying his time and considering whether or not he should tell them. He was surprised they hadn't known already, with having Ron and Potter as a connection in Hogwarts. Harry knew, for certain. And Ron, most likely, did, too. Maybe no one else knew? That was unlikely, with a bigmouth like Malfoy, it was bound to leak out somewhere. There probably wasn't one soul who _didn't_ know within the castle walls.

"Hermione Granger," he said quickly. 

The occupants of the table gasped, while Bill said, "Old 'Mione? Now why would Umbridge do that?"

"That is my own business," Snape answered with a sniff. "But, as I can see that you care for the girl, is why I request your assistance in finding that awful woman."

They shrugged off his refusal to answer why he was looking for her, to his relief, and started to arrange for him to leave with Charlie to Normandy the next morning. 

"Well," Snape sighed quietly, getting up from the table. "I thank you for helping me, but I must get back to Hogwarts to sleep for the night and pack my things." 

"Nonsense," Mrs Weasley interjected, standing up so fast that she knocked her chair to the floor. "You can stay with us for the night, it's too late to head out now. Ron's pyjamas should fit you, and you lot can get your things in the morning." 

"But…"

Mrs Weasley's eyes flashed dangerously. "I won't take no for an answer." 

§

Snape sneered at the walls of Ron Weasley's room, taking in the violent orange of every single piece of décor. He had only been in there for five seconds and he was already beginning to suffer from an aggressive headache. 

"Good night, Severus." Mrs Weasley said quickly, shutting the door. 

He walked around a bit, ducking under the low, sloping ceiling as his eyes grazed over the numerous Chudley Canon posters. Eyes blinked blankly back at him, not deeming him worthy of a smile or a wave. 

Severus eyed his greatest enemy yet, the pair of pyjamas lying on the bed, the shade almost blending in with the smooth sheets. There was no way he would wear those… 

But he had to consider the options. It was too late to Apparate back to Hogwarts, and he was too tired. He would probably wander into the lake while looking for the Quidditch pitch. Unless he wanted to go out and sleep in the yard, or on the couch where anyone (everyone!) could see him, the privacy of the room, no matter how ugly the colour, was inviting. 

And there was no way he could sleep in his bulky, uncomfortable school robes. It was either the pyjamas, or sleeping in the nude.

He surrendered to his logical sense of mind. He sunk down into the unusually soft bed, admitting to feeling quite cozy and warm, and blew the candle out. 

"Hermione," he whispered before falling asleep. "If you could see what I am doing for you." 

His final thoughts were that if she did, she would probably burst out laughing. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Moi, thanks for pointing that out. I was going to check, but I forgot. Though I do believe you could have been a bit nicer about it.

It is now corrected and with .07% more humor.

Thanks to: Pas Moi (for sticking up for me! It was a mistake to start off with, but I fixed it. But s/he was a bit redundant and mean, wasn't s/he? And again, thanks for sticking up for me! I appreciate it), nightcrawler7082 (I would miss him in Potions, too), aPPle-FrrEAk, KDarkMaiden, micha~, Electryone (hm, hopefully next chapter will have a bit, it's kind of hard since she's sort of out of it), whyMMM, DarkShadowFlame, piper, aPPle-FrrEAk, Voldie On Varsity Track, Silent Cobra, Cassandra22 (a little encouragement can go a long way, as we'll see), Aindel S. Druida, JoeBob1379, willow-nymph, Meriadoc / Celithrathien (he always gets what's coming to him, doesn't he?), larson, Romm, the soul cage (you are such a great and constant reviewer of _everything_! I admire you.), and Leah (The Speech? I referenced something I know nothing about? Weird. What is it? I think I did it accidentally).

Please tell me what you think of this (extra-long) chapter and review!


	5. The Return

A/N: Should I change this to a really low PG-13? I don't think it's really needed. Just want your opinion. 

Chapter Five

"The Return"

Snape had managed to worm out of the bright orange pyjamas before anyone could see him wearing them. After consuming a modest breakfast of a piece of toast and orange juice, he was more than ready to head back to Hogwarts to get his things.

He had only been gone a day, but it seemed so much longer. 

But no matter. Whatever time it felt like, or was in reality, it still felt incredible to be back in the dungeons, walking along the corridor, running his long fingers along the frozen stone. He loved the dank smell, the dim and flickering light, the utter silence…

But the silence was broken upon his passing of his classroom door. He could hear muffled bits of Hagrid's unusual drawl, punctuated by scattered laughs. Another few seconds of tense silence was followed by an astoundingly loud explosion.

Snape flung the door open in a haste he had previously not known. 

"I _demand_ to know what is going on in my classroom!"

Hagrid was bent over a blackened Dennis Creevey's cauldron, repeating over and over again, "Nah, that's a-right, Dennis. No 'arm done…jus' need to find where my molars went…"

Snape stood at the front of the class, enraged that no one seemed to notice he was there. 

So he tried again. "Excuse me!"

Hagrid twisted his neck to look at Severus, his bearded face breaking into a warm smile. "Why 'ello, Severus! Didn' espect to be seein' ya for a while."

As if finally realizing who he was, the group of students gasped in unison. A small girl with mousy brown hair exclaimed, "I thought he was dead!"

Snape glared at Hagrid in questioning. "You told them I was dead?"

The half-giant stood upright and took Severus's arm, steering him to the front of the classroom. "Well, ya see, Professor, I though' that it would be easier on them ta tell them that ya we're dead than ta say that you were getting' married off to a stud'nt."

"Tell me, exactly, why you would think this?"

"Well, I was 'fraid that they would 'ave heart attacks from the pure 'orror of it all."

The murderous glare that Hagrid received convinced him that perhaps Severus wasn't in a mood for good humour. 

"Hagrid, the only reason I returned was to gather my things for my…holiday. You are…" Severus squeezed his eyes shut. "…honestly, not so incompetent, just please keep my students in line and _prevent_, not encourage, the explosion of my classroom, please?"

"All righ', Professor," Hagrid said cheerfully, giving Snape a thump on the back that almost sent him flying across the room.

Severus regained his composure and headed toward the door. He turned back around to give Hagrid his last command before leaving. "Just…don't do anything stupid."

"No probl'm, Professor."

As Snape slowly closed the door behind him, he heard the last drawling strains of, "Oops…got some of my 'air in there. It's prob-ly still okay ta drink…"

The door shut with an echoing, metallic click. Snape sighed. His students were out of his hands.

And into the ones of Hagrid.

§

Snape had reached the entrance hall, black suitcase in hand, when two familiar and unusually loud voices piped up behind him.

"Well, I don't know, RON, but I think HERMIONE might be better NOW."

Snape whipped around to see that Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were walking past him to the staircase, completely ignoring him.

"See, I don't THINK SO, Harry, because I think that BIG-NOSED GIT…"

"Ron, shut up."

"Oops, sorry, got carried away."

Harry sighed and swept a stray piece of unruly black hair back from his forehead, revealing a glimpse of his famed scar. "Maybe some PEOPLE or SOMEONE should go SEE HER. I think she would ENJOY the COMPANY."

Harry threw a disturbing wink in Severus's direction and disappeared behind the corner at the top of the stairs. Snape glared in disgust after them for several moments before he noticed what they…or at least Harry…was trying to get him to do. 

And with prompting from Dumbledore, no doubt.

"No," Severus muttered angrily to himself. "I will _not_ go see her."

But another voice, smooth as honey and deeper than his own, broke out from the back of his mind. _The brilliant, oddly pretty Hermione Granger is a few staircases away…_

"She's not pretty," Severus grunted.

_Yes, she is._

"Shut UP!" Severus peeked around him, surprised by his outburst and hoping that no one had witnessed it. His wish was granted, he was alone.

_Come on…_

He finally gave in, taking a few steps toward the staircase. "Oh, what the bloody hell. No one will know."

§

Madam Pomfrey's hair was in disarray under her hat, her cheeks glowing red, and she smiled warmly as Severus entered the office. 

"I suppose you've come to see your fiancée?" she said quietly, not able to hide her grin. 

"She is not my fiancée," he replied scathingly, looking around the ward for the bushy-haired girl. "But yes, I have come to see Miss Granger."

"Whatever you say, Severus," she said, the smile fading only slightly. "I moved her into the Long-Term-Care unit. We can see her there."

Snape's heart started beating wildly in the chest, and for the first time he could think, he started tripping over his words in anxiousness. "Long-Term? Why Long-Term? She doesn't need to be in Long-Term. I'm going to…"

"Yes, Yes, I'm well aware what you're up to, Professor. It's just a fact that you need to accept. She won't…get better until you come through."

"I know that, Poppy. Please just…shut up."

Madam Pomfrey's grin faded into a smirk, and she led him through a heavily curtained doorway and a black-wooded door into a darkened room, somewhat tiny compared to the infirmary, and to the opposite wall. An elegant four-poster bed was pushed up against the stone, draped in heavy black velvet, the comforter of black silk stuffed with goose feathers. Hermione's hands were folded delicately over her stomach, her bushy brown hair spread out perfectly underneath her neck and lying nicely over her shoulders. She had the look of a peaceful sleep, her eyes calmly closed, her cheeks rosy and her chest rising and falling with each deep breath.

"Good Merlin, Poppy, she's not dead. Why all the black?"

"Well, it _is_ your favorite colour."

Severus regarded her in confusion. "So?"

She shrugged, her grin again stretching across its place on her face. "I usually try not to presume things or ask too many questions, Severus. It was Dumbledore's suggestion, really. I just thought I would be considerate and offer you a place of your favorite colour for when she wakes up, for the…well, the place to consummate your marriage."

Snape's face turned a deep shade of red. "_Excuse me_?"

"Severus!" a friendly voice said the from the doorway, floating through the dark room toward them. "I thought I'd see you back soon, knew you wouldn't be able to stay away from Hermione for long." Lupin walked up to stand beside the Potion's Master, gazing down affectionately at the sleeping girl. "I hope you have some clue of where you're going."

Severus sighed, immediately following it with an irritated sniff. "Of course, I do. I'm not hopeless, Remus."

"Yes, I believe Trelawny had to help you out of a bit," Remus said with a roguish smile. "I always thought she would turn out to be useful at least once."

"I think you're getting ahead of yourself, Lupin," Pomfrey said with a wink, taking the werewolf's arm. "You know, Remus, I need some help getting a boggart out of the medicine cabinet in my bathroom. I don't suppose you would want to help me?"

"I would be delighted, Madam."

Arm in arm, they walked cheerily out of the dank room, leaving Snape to stare, red-faced, after them.

There was only one way everyone in the entire castle had to be acting like this. The house-elves must have been slipping senility potion into the pumpkin juice or _something_, this just wasn't normal! Whoever was up to this, Snape knew he was going to wring their necks…

A little sigh distracted Severus from his murderous thoughts, and he looked back at the bed where sleeping Hermione was lying. Her head rocked to the side, and for a quick moment he had the notion that she might wake up. Resolutely, he walked over and cupped her cheek with his palm, whispering "Hermione. Hermione, are you awake?"

The girl didn't react to his touch. Her breathing deepened until it was back to its normal state, and not one of awakening. 

She was pretty, honestly. He couldn't help but admit that to himself. Maybe even beautiful. Her beauty wasn't an obvious one; it coupled her quirky looks and her fierce intelligence, throwing in a pure heart for good measure. 

Silently, he sat down on the bed beside her and ran his long fingers over the warm skin of her face, tracing her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose. Feeling her forehead, he realized it was pleasantly warm and not feverish at all. He moved his hand to hers, taking it lightly. 

He couldn't deny it. There was something there, something he had for her. Something he didn't recognize. And something he wouldn't know until she was awake and he was back to his senses, if that would ever happen.

"You know," he whispered. "I think you would have laughed if you had seen me last night. I was wearing Ron's orange pyjamas. I looked like I was ready to join the American Muggle children in trick-or-treating."

He chuckled a bit, but it quickly faded away.

Overcome with a sense of uneasiness and unknown feelings, he leaned back on the mattress and wrapped his arm tightly around her waist, tucking her bushy-haired head underneath his chin. She smelled like peaches, Pomfrey must have been keeping her clean while she slept. 

Holding his young fiancée, Snape's eyelids began to drift close. The door was creaking open before he even realized that he had fallen asleep.

"Why, I didn't think I'd see the day come so soon!"

Oh, good Merlin. Snape was resting with a sleeping Hermione and Dumbledore had just chosen that moment to enter the room. Much to Snape's dismay, he sounded like he was on the verge of laughter. 

"Well, if I can tear you away from your lover's arms for a week or so…" Why on earth did he have to wink? "…Charlie Weasley is here and requesting your presence so he can get back to work. Can you do that, Severus?"

The Potion's Master jumped up from the bed, smoothing his clothes as his face turned a faint pink. "I am most definitely ready to go, Albus."

"Good. You can use Fawkes to get to Normandy, if you'd like. Apparating at longer distances can be so taxing. If you don't mind?"

Snape nodded, grateful for the turn in conversation. "That would be preferred. Thank you." 

Albus turned toward the door and Severus began to follow him, until the Headmaster quickly turned around. "Don't worry, Professor. I'll only tell everyone."

He winked again as he turned back, his deep blue, star-studded robes disappearing behind the black curtains.

§

Hermione breathed deeply, feeling extremely comfortable and warm. She had heard the familiar voice, the soothing baritone whispering to her. She felt the warm fingers tracing the contours of her face, embracing her hand in a sign of obvious affection. She remembered with relish the lean arm tightly wound around her waist, and how she tried to respond to his touch, but her body refused to act in any way but that of one asleep. 

His chin had been tucked over her head, cradling her in his embrace.

Good Merlin, the impossible was happening. If Hermione didn't no better, she would think that Snape was falling in love.

Or was already in love.

And so was she.

Wait…did he say he had been wearing Ron's pyjamas? 

Hermione would have burst into loud peals of laughter if she could, but instead was drifting back into her sleep, the one that would seem to last for eternity, and, she knew, unless awoken with Snape's kiss.

She knew. She knew the curse. But there was no way she could tell him.

Come on, Severus, she thought, weighing his first name oddly in her mind. Stop being so bloody stubborn.

Ah, what he did for her. Why couldn't he find it in himself for just one simple kiss?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yay, fluffiness. 

Thanks to: **KDarkMaiden** (Ok, I suppose a _bit_ more on the humor front. But I'm too modest :)), **Electryone** (all right, I'll try to find it in my heart (/laziness), to go back and fix it. Could have swarn that I had it right...I love Disney endings, too. Except when the whole story is sad and scarring, like Bambi), **SublimeWonder** (I honestly would like to see him in bright orange PJs, too, he would probably look hot), **Meriadoc / Celithrathien** (hm...if you don't mind, could you possible send me an e-mail and point out other spelling errors? I'd like to fix them. Thanks! (it's arbahesray@hotmail.com)), **Cassandra22** (I think it would be enjoyed by all, except, perhaps, Ron),** DarkShadowFlame** (I think Chapter 4 actually was my favorite so far), **Evanescence** (He's a very complex character, at least I think he starting to admit his feelings for her. Took him bloody long enough...even though it's only been a week. Heh.),** larson** (maybe he should go back...be adopted by them? Hehe, kidding), **Piggie** (Yeah, I knew about that and I did keep it in mind. We'll find out how she got out of Hogwarts later, I promise (and if I don't explain, you can kick me in the shins)), **Aindel S. Druida** (maybe swoon a bit?), **AddisonRae** (be patient, my friend), **Pas Moi **(I'm trying! This is so fun to write), **Talio** (hm...well, Dumbledore's motives are non-existant, except that he loves their pairing and that he's tipping on the edge, if he hasn't already plunged over, the edge of insanity. With Snape and Hermione's interests, we're getting more and more into that), **the soul cage** (ah, don't shun me, but I'm not the hugest fan of Orlando, even though I do respect him as an actor. But Johnny Depp rocks my socks), **Snapecake** (I hope not literally, I try to promote safety to my readers :)), **kLyn** (My goal is to delight!), **Romm** (I'm thinking he probably didn't concern himself with learning it...or maybe he has a closet obsession with a color that's not dark and depressing?), **aPPle-FrrEAk** (My muse is currently hitting on me, being the motivation for the fluffy parts of this chapter. He's such a weird little thing), **JoeBob1379** (Oh, he will..._if_ he finds out), **nightcrawler7082** (she can be right, but only on an incredibly rare occasion), and soul (oooh, she does ;)). You guys are crazy for reviewing so much, but I appreciate it immensely.

Please review!

A cyber-biscuit to whomever can guess what day my birthday is!

_Hint: It's in November, and I'm not being incredibly subtle...okay, maybe I am ;) You'll have to look around my account a bit..._


	6. The French

Chapter Six

"The French"

"_Bonjour! Bienvenue à Normandie, Monsieur Snahp et Monsieur Weaz-ley!_" A chipper witch greeted them as they pushed through the swinging doors of a classy hotel in the only completely magical community in Northern France. Charlie and Snape nodded in acknowledgement and she began to lead them down a narrow hall, decorated in a depressing shade of navy blue. If the walls had to be dark, Snape thought, they could have at least made them black.

She shoved a key into a lock and the door to their room swung open. "_J'espère que vous vous amusez_!"

Charlie handed the woman a fifty franc note, and she looked at it blankly for a minute before realizing it was Muggle money.

"Well," he said in English. "We're working mostly on Muggle sites, so we didn't bother changing for any French Wizarding money."

She didn't look very happy. "_Ah, je vois. D'accord, vennez, s'il vous plaît._"

Charlie gazed over at Snape, who had just at that moment realized that the boy couldn't speak French. He would have thought that if someone traveled so much, they would at least be able to grasp some simple phrases in a few languages.

"She wants us to come with her." Snape told the Weasley boy, who nodded in understanding and grunted an embarrassed "all right". 

"And monsieur," the woman said in English, looking at Charlie. "I _do_ speak a bit of Ee-nglish."

She led them into their hotel room, apparently thinking that they couldn't find their way around. The room was already incredibly tiny, barely managing to squeeze an end table in-between two full beds. Despite the size, Snape couldn't help but breathe a tiny sigh of relief. Sleeping in the same bed with Hermione was one thing, but sharing it with Charlie Weasley would just be a bit much.

"Here," the woman said with her heavy French accent. "iz your bedroom, and your…toilet iz through here…" She pushed open a walnut door into a black marble bathroom, almost as big as the bedroom, with a large Jacuzzi nestled against a huge landscape window. Snape's mouth dropped open and the woman smirked.

"Our _salle de bains_ are ze most popular in Wizarding France," she said, her smirk evolving into a proud smile. "I 'ope that you enjoy yourselves."

She began to leave, but stopped abruptly. "Oh, _j'ai oublié. Ici._" She held up a doorhanger that said "_Ne dérangez pas, s'il vous plaît._"

She hung it back on the inside doorknob. "_Au revoir!"_

Charlie looked at Severus questioningly, no doubt about to ask what it meant.

But Snape cut him off before he could say a word. "Just…don't ask," he sighed. "Or I will hurl myself out of the window to a certain death. It's much better if you just don't ask."

§

_ "The squid wants to talk to you," Hermione said quietly, brushing her lips across Severus's jaw line. "He says he's unhappy with the quality of the necklaces he's receiving from the Merpeople."_

"All right," he replied, folding and setting the Daily Prophet_ down on the dark-wooded coffee table. He reclined in the leather armchair and sighed deeply as Hermione's weight transfered from the floor to his lap, her bushy-haired head finding a comfortable spot nestled into his chest. "I love you, Hermione." _

With his eyes closed, he felt her small hand enclose over his, her kisses fluttering on his knuckles. "I love you, too. I think the chicken is ready."

"Good, I don't think I could go much longer without chucking it out onto the motorway…" 

§

Of course, the dream made perfect sense while he was asleep. But upon waking, Severus glared bleary eyed at the dark ceiling, silently thinking, 'What the hell?'

He heard Charlie groan from across the room, and in a voice thick with sleep say, "Since when do you love Hermione?"

Snape immediately panicked, his already white skin paling. He sat straight up in bed and looked at the awakening Weasley, his form outlined in the dim light filtering through the curtains. "What?"

Charlie laboriously sat up in bed, stretching his stocky, scar-crossed arms in front of him. "Aren't you a bit old for her?"

"No, I'm…" Snape stopped talking abruptly, catching himself. "Charlie?" He said quietly after a moment of tense silence, his voice catching.

"Yes?"

"This never happened."

"Got it."

"Good." He rushed into the bathroom to treat himself to an emotionally agonizing bath. The warm bathwater, vanilla scented bubble bath, and smooth black marble did nothing to soothe his frazzled nerves, worn paper-thin from a traumatizing dream. He kept running the odd words "I love you, Hermione," repeatedly on his tongue. In the meantime, he heard Madam Pomfrey subconsciously nagging him. 

_"You're bathing away your sorrows? While _I'm_ stuck with taking care of Hermione? I'm not the pushy type, Professor, but I expect a bit more of you than this."_

"You shouldn't be in a Jacuzzi, Severus. You know what hot water does to your little swimmers. What would Hermione think? She has ten children to shoot out, better get down to it soon…"

He sighed and sank deeper into the foam, running his long fingers through his hair. Dreams were random and incomprehensible, they couldn't mean anything. That was proven by the words spoken about the Giant Squid and chucking chicken at passing Muggles in automobiles. 

And yet…

The warmth of her mouth was incredibly real, a sense of feeling formerly not experienced in his dreams. The way she said, "I love you" harboured a tone that he had never heard her voice hold. The look in her eyes was certainly not a figment of his imagination.

Neither was the feeling he had had when he returned her affections.

Severus didn't know how this was possible. It was like he had had an encounter with a soul while he was asleep, their two dream worlds connecting in a tangled mass of random thoughts and unspoken feelings. The problem was, the feelings were no longer unspoken. And that was what scared him.

Because there was no protecting his dreams. Though an incredibly capable Occlumens, his mental state of unconsciousness left him completely vulnerable. This was why he slept hardly at all during Voldemort's rein of terror. But that had ended months ago (a surprise that it had happened so soon), and he was getting used to sleeping like a normal person. The extra amounts of rest had actually done wonders with him, making his skin gain a warmer tone, the permanent bags under his eyes disappear, and his hair start to lose its greasy composure and become soft. 

Guarding his dreams from Voldemort was difficult, but attainable. Guarding them from Hermione was an impossibility, especially since he was probably overreacting and she wasn't seeing into them in the first place.

"Oy, Professor, will you hurry up in there? I have to use the toilet."

Snape groaned and sunk further into the bubbles, trying to rid himself of the thoughts of his, admittedly, bushy-haired love-interest.

"I really don't want to bother you, but if you don't get out of the loo _now_, I'll make sure that something horrible and slimy finds its way into your bed tonight."

"As long as it's not Lucius Malfoy after a romp in jelly, I'm sure I won't mind very much," Snape replied loudly, hearing his voice echo slightly in the bathroom. He heard Weasley groan. "Fine," Severus sighed. "I'm going."

Charlie rushed him as he opened the door, taking just enough to say "Bloody…" and slamming the door shut in the Professor's face. He stared at the closed door, bemused. 

"Well, how is the quest going, Severus?"

Snape whipped around, stunned and panicked. His eyes fell upon the fireplace on the other side of the small room, where, in the small licks of flame, sat the head of Remus Lupin. 

"What are you doing here?" Snape hissed, approaching the fire. He pulled the dressing gown closer around him, tying the black terry belt tighter around his waist. 

"I've just come to check up on you," Lupin replied, a little taken aback. His head rocked sickeningly back and forth across the flames. "I was wondering if you might need anything. The breakfast that the House Elves are serving this morning is excellent. Would you like me to Apparate over with a bit?"

Lupin's tone was not mocking, but good-natured and concerned. However, Severus could care less.

"I'm not hungry," he growled in reply. His stomach chose that moment to loudly betray him.

Remus smiled warmly. "You liar. I'll bring some over for Charlie, as well." 

"That is not the only thing on your mind," Severus muttered. Lupin just smiled until there was a "_pop_!" and his head disappeared from the flames.

§

After a considerably aggravating breakfast with Charlie and Lupin, a (fortunately) uneventful run in with an unattractive French hooker, and Charlie's insistence in purchasing a set of robes in ruby red, they arrived at the Carléon Caves. 

It was not at all what Severus had imagined it would look like. Given, there were mountains, and, in turn, caves, but wands were away, ropes were disregarded, and there was not a dragon in site. Instead, a circle of about a dozen Wizards crowded around a campfire, trying to keep warm in the chilly day. Uneasy with the amount of earflap hats present, Snape glanced sideways at Charlie, but was hastily ignored. 

They quietly joined the group, Severus hoping to melt into the chilly background and blend in with the gray walls of the caves. These hopes were dashed when Charlie insisted on introducing him. Snape had expected the group of obviously under-educated louts to gawk at his financial security, smugness, and apparent expertise. Instead, the group merely laughed while someone tossed an earflap hat in his direction.

"Come on, Professor!" a short wizard with a missing front tooth and a German accent urged him. "Put it on! It's tradition!"

Charlie was grinning in triumph. "Yes, come on, Professor. It won't hurt."

Defeated, Snape shoved the pink personification of horror over his black hair, earning a reaction of rambunctious laughter. Fortunately, the attention quickly turned away from him and conversation doubled back to something a bit more interesting: dragons.

"We're still trying to figure out what's going on with that Peruvian Vipertooth," one of the men said. "And why he's here in the first place. Honestly a mystery to us."

"It doesn't surprise me," a female voice with an Irish lilt said. Severus hadn't noticed it before, but there was also a young witch present. "Ever since Voldemort was defeated, things have been showing up in odd places everywhere…"

"But we're not talking about a Hungarian Horntail landing in Romania, Helen," Charlie replied shortly, hovering his hands over the fire to warm them. "They're on the same chunk of land. But something from South America suddenly appearing in France…"

"Just let it go, Charlie," one of the wizards said. "There's no point wondering about something that we can't solve."

"Yes, but…"

The conversation that Severus had hoped would be more interesting eventually turned into what could be better known as a snooze-fest. His head was beginning to droop, allowing the sight of the fluffy pompoms on his hat to become visible to the boisterous throng. 

Suddenly, a snippet of conversation made his neck jerk upward in attention.

"Hey, Charlie, I heard you were looking for a new girlfriend…"

Charlie's face, already red from the heat of the fire, turned a shade to rival his famed Weasley hair. "What made you think that?"

The witch, Helen, burst out laughing. "Just you following me around whenever I want to go shopping, asking if I'd run into any good-looking French girls and ask them out on a date for you."

Charlie's head drooped visibly, but Snape could see a hint of a sardonic smile playing on his lips.

"Yeah," the German wizard said. "Well, I think I found you a good match. There was a rather...interesting woman that came by yesterday when you weren't here, wanting to make sure that we were following Ministry regulations." He snorted. "I'm not followin' any British snot's Ministry. Yurn only belongs to the German Ministry, thank you very much."

"Yeah, Charlie," Helen said, grinning and beginning where Yurn had left off before his loyalties rant. "I think you would have gotten along very well. She's your type."

"What did she look like?" Severus said, oblivious to the shock that rippled through the small group in reaction to him saying any actual words. 

Helen grinned, and with her honest chocolate eyes and curly brown hair, Severus couldn't help but suddenly be reminded of Hermione. Merlin, he missed her. "What, you fancy a snog with the old hag?" She laughed at the revulsion on his face. "A great beast of a woman. Dumpy, toad-face, has a fetish for black velvet hair bows."

Everyone turned to stare at Charlie as he muttered, "Umbridge."

Yurn laughed. "Ah! So you already know her! Good luck, I say…"

"Look!" Helen pointed up at the sky, but not before Snape noticed that a large, wing-shaped shadow was lingering on the ground around the fire.

Everyone's necks craned backwards, looking up into the cloudy sky. A humungous shape circled around them, the large wings beating heavily in the air. It paused for a minute, hovering, then burst upward and disappeared into the clouds.

"The Peruvian Vipertooth," Helen murmured. "I just hope he's heading somewhere safe. I don't feel like throwing Obliviates around today."

§

After further drilling of the lot for more information, coming up with nothing conclusive, and a lot of protesting from the "hard-working" members of the crew, Severus and Charlie returned to their hotel in resignation. 

"Don't know what they're talking about," Charlie muttered as he turned the key in its keyhole. "This is all volunteer work for me, _they're_ the ones getting paid…"

"I just wish they could know what happened to Umbridge," Severus sighed, throwing the hideous pink hat down on the bedroom floor as they entered and grinding it under his heel. "Though I can't blame them for not asking where she was staying. Who would want to keep in contact with that thing?"

But Charlie wasn't listening; he was staring ahead at his bed, mouth open in disbelief. "Remus?"

Indeed, Lupin sat upon Weasley's bed, staring into the fire, and immediately leapt to his feet as he noticed the men's presence. 

"Lupin," Snape sneered. "What are you doing here? This morning was bad enough."

Instead of receiving Remus's ineffective, too-gentle-to-sting humour, his frown remained in place and the worry lines across his forehead intensified.

"I tried to reach you earlier this afternoon, but you weren't here…and…" He paused for a moment, searching for what seemed to be sympathy somewhere near the fireplace.

"Come on, Lupin, spit it out," Snape urged, shoving his hands firmly in his pockets and kicking the wrinkled pink hat to the corner of the room in embarrasement.

"Well…" The werewolf swallowed, his Adam's apple quaking visibly. "Hermione's missing." 

§§§

A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long. After I posted the last chapter, a series of losses happened in my life in a very short amount of time and I wasn't ready to write anything humorous. I'm fine now, though.

I know that France no longer uses francs as currency, but in 1999, they still did. 50 francs was the equivalent of approximately (I think) 4 American dollars. I'm not quite sure, but feel free to correct me. France did not start using the euro until 2002.

I speak French, but not perfectly. If anyone can see grammatical errors (English or French) in this document, please let me know. 

Okay, enough of that. 

Thanks to: JoeBob1379, KDarkMaiden, Electryone (I did fix all of it! I'm rather proud of myself. And really, is Severus really one to take the easy way out? I don't think so), Meriadoc / Celithrathien (thanks for the corrections. I changed everything (I hope), including the changeover to British spelling. Umph, a lot of work), Piggie, DarkShadowFlame (I'm really looking foward to the kiss myself, hehehe), Evanescence (what fun would it be if he just kissed her, and that was it?), Akasha Ravensong, Romm, crissy, aPPle-FrrEAk, KarenDetroit, Raclswt, One-Sexy-Slytherin (you don't like chocolate? I'm sorry, it's my life source), Talio, ~*~* (aka Goddess of Reviews), just reading, Dues Ex, Silver, the soul cage, Aindel S. Druida, soul (yup, that's it...maybe ;)), KES, Anarane Anwamane, and Rylee Smith. 

Cyber Cookies go to: One-Sexy-Slytherin, Talio (your odd method was correct), the soul cage, and ~*~* (aka Goddess of Reviews). 


	7. The Battle

Chapter Seven

"The Battle"

Ten days. All it could take for Severus's life to completely change was ten days. The figure was somewhat disconcerting, and he couldn't shake off the feeling that he felt somewhat insignificant, even though he knew he was far away from that description.

Could someone fall in love within ten days?

Before, he didn't think that that was possible in ten years. But he found himself rethinking his beliefs a lot lately. 

It was somewhat frightening.

Sitting in Dumbledore's office, staring at a shiny silver ball on a shelf behind the Headmaster's desk with his arms crossed, he pursed his lips in frustration. The old wizard regarded him carefully, his long fingers drumming the desk as he observed the agitated Potions Master.

"Something seems to be bothering you, Severus," he said slowly, resting his chin upon the palm of his hand and propping his elbow up on the desk. 

"No, no, not at all," Snap said with an edge of bitterness, shaking his head. "Being engaged to one of my students, having her placed under a curse, find out she's missing, and falling in l…out …it doesn't bother me at all. Why would it?" 

"There's no need for sarcasm, Professor," Dumbledore replied with a frown. 

Snape sighed loudly in frustration and buried his face in his hands. "I just wish this was over." 

The Headmaster reached over and patted his young charge on the shoulder. "It will be, my dear boy," he said, his frown transforming. "You will soon be happy, you have my word." 

"So you're going to call the wed-" 

"Stop being a ninny," he said, sitting back with a bit of a chuckle. "You know that won't make you happy." 

Snape sneered but said nothing. One small victory for Dumbledore, one giant step for Snapekind. 

§

The Hogsmeade air was delightfully cool. Severus walked along, observing the ground thoughtfully with his hands shoved in his pockets, black hair carefully framing his face. Lost in a tapestry of different moods and trains of thought, his eyes scanned each crevice of the dirt and gravel, his nostrils ignored the tempting scent of syrup and orange from Honeydukes. 

The bookstore was one temptation that he couldn't pass by. He entered the shop, the little invisible bell tinkling as he stepped into the heated air that was scented with the smell of bitter pages and age-old ink. A display of "Grimm's Fairy Tales, Rewritten for the Modern Lil' Witch and Wizard" was set up at the front of the store, the knight's cape on the cover waving valiantly in the wind as he bent over a sleeping princess. Snape ignored the books and pushed onward.

The only other customer in the bookshop was a crumpled hag who was buried in the Beauty Tips section, rustling through magazines and ancient tomes desperately. He turned into the next aisle and was confronted with a horrifying amount of Self-Help books, all sporting titles like _What To Do When His Wand Won't Work_ and _Being a Single Witch in a Wizard's World_. Snape sneered and quickly darted down past the books, soon coming to the Potions Section to find that he already owned everything interesting that they had available. 

With a loud sigh, he made his way back to the door, but he heard a loud hiss behind him. He turned around, expecting to see the Old Hag ready to harass him for being alive, but there was no one there. He spun back around and began to push open the door when he heard the loud "pst" again.

He spun back around, face livid, and pulled out his wand. There was still no one there. He craned his neck back and searched the walls for a possible portrait, but they were bare except for a glossy poster of Dumbledore engrossed in a Stephen King novel. 

Then a ripple of movement caught Snape's eyes. 

He approached the stand of Fairy Tale books carefully. The knight in the center book was staring at him, his hands placed triumphantly on his hips and his wavy, chestnut hair swept back from his face in an air most dignified. 

"Why so glum?" the knight inquired with a lifted brow. The princess beside him grumbled in her sleep. 

"None of your business," Snape smartly replied, preparing to turn back around and immediately leave the shop.

"Ah," the knight said decidedly. "A woman."

"No!" Snape protested. The hag snapped her head around and gave him a steady glare, and he tried to drain the color back out of his face. "I am not _glum_, nor do I have any problems with women."

"Right," the little man replied, smirking. "I know that expression well. It's almost always a woman."

"For your information," Snape sniffed. "I believe that I almost _always_ have this expression."

"Ooooh." He nodded in understanding. "So it's always a woman."

Snape sighed and closed his eyes in resignation. "Fine. It is. Tell anyone and I'll burn every copy of you."

"That's not necessary," the knight said, folding his arms across his metal-plated chest. "What's your problem?"

Pain, extreme head pain. "My…betrothed…" he whispered, lifting his hand to press his fingers between his eyes. "…is missing."

"Ah, easy." The knight smiled. "Buy me."

"What? Since when do books start advertising themselves?"

"Since we were individually hand painted using models of real people. Very limited amount sold. We're quite valuable."

"And why should I buy you?"

"Because I can help you." A small smile crept across the disgustingly handsome man's face. "And if you buy me, I can't tell anyone your dirty little secret."

Before Snape knew what he was doing, he was pushing the book of fairy tales across the counter to a blank witch with a wart on the tip of her nose that looked vaguely familiar. She examined the book with lifted eyebrows.

"Ah," she said. Her voice was high-pitched and increasingly unpleasant. "Good choice. They're limited edition, all individually hand-paint-"

"Yes," Snape interrupted rudely. "I know."

The witch frowned but continued to calculate the price. With a satisfied ding, the register popped up a tiny slip of paper that looked like it had a few too many digits printed on it. "All right. That will be twenty seven Galleons and three Knuts."

Snape stared at her, horrified, his lip curling. "Excuse me?"

"Twenty seven Galleons and three Knuts, sir," the witch slowly repeated. 

"That's insane."

She shrugged. "That's the book business."

Snape grunted and handed her the money. She gave him a small smile, revealing a few crooked teeth. "I'd have to say that I'd never think that this was your type of book, Professor." 

Snape grabbed the collection of fairy tales and swept out of the shop as quickly as he could. Couldn't he go _anywhere_ without being confronted by one of his former students? _Anywhere_? 

"So, what's the problem with her, then?" the knight asked, voice muffled by Severus's sleeve. "Hexes? Unrequited love? Warts? All of the above?" 

"Not exactly," Severus mumbled, continuing to wander aimlessly down the street, obviously not knowing where he was going or what he was looking for. Nonetheless, his dark eyes searched the buildings and people accusingly, looking for a secret that he didn't know existed. 

"Don't tell me she's asleep," the voice said in disgust. "I got past the dragon and the thorns. But waking her up is the part I couldn't figure out."

Severus gulped. "Dragon?"

Almost in answer to his inquiry, a woman's high-pitched scream resounded through the half-empty street. A heavy rumble underneath Severus's feet felt suspiciously like an impact vibration. He heard footsteps racing toward him, his hair swept back as people ran by.

Someone grabbed his arm "It's a dragon! Run!" But Severus pulled it away and the young woman continued to sprint in the opposite direction.

A roar echoed through the town, and Severus continued on his path, curiosity obviously piqued. 

"That sounds vaguely familiar…" droned the voice underneath his arm. 

"Shush." Of course, Severus didn't need to tell the knight to be quiet to hear the dragon again, its roar was loud enough to deafen the dead. 

A huff of steam billowed up into the sky nearby, coming from the direction of the Shrieking Shack. He pulled his wand out and started running toward the source. If he could find a few more wizards that were willing to help, they could take the dragon down…

Then there remained the most important question. Well, at least the second-most important. What on earth was a dragon doing in Hogsmeade? The reasoning was too complex for Severus to understand. It was like the Peruvian Vipertooth showing up in France, it just didn't make sense. Small towns didn't usually appeal to dragons. Maybe there was a migration going on? Unlikely, and they certainly wouldn't move to colder climates like that of the Northern United Kingdom. 

Knowing my luck, Severus thought with a sardonic smile, it _is_ a Peruvian Vipertooth. 

It's funny how things work out, sometimes. 

As soon as he rounded the final house that edged the land where the Shrieking Shack stood, he had his answer. Sitting lazily in front of the house, its green-scaled legs sticking out like a dog's, was the Vipertooth. Its eyes were closed and its head swung side-to-side as if was charmed by some inaudible music. 

Dazed, Severus took a step forward, trying not to make any more noise than necessary. But of course, a piece of gravel decided to take that moment to stick to the bottom of Severus' boot and graze noisily across the rocks underfoot. 

He flinched, closing his eyes and hoping that it didn't hear him. But closing your eyes when you're face-to-face with a dragon is never a good idea. 

Unfortunately, Snape, even though he is a quite sensible man, didn't know this. 

The smoke seemed to cling hotly to him, caressing his pale skin and pricking at the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck, the light brush of stubble that surrounded his mouth. His eyes stung even though they were squeezed shut, and he opened his mouth to yell but only inhaled a burning mouthful of gray, polluted air. 

He fell forward on the ground, coughing and blind, and the book slipped from his arm. He heard muffled shrieks of "wand! wand!" 

Severus groped for his wand in his pocket and found it. As it emerged, he yelled the first spell that came to his mind.

"_Evanesco!_" It was a good try, really. He used the spell often enough in his classes, there was no reason why it shouldn't work now.

Fortunately, it had an effect. The smoke in front of him cleared, leaving to his view the gigantic dragon shrouded in a haze of smoke, the eyes glowing ruby red through the fog. All was silent. Severus stood and wrapped his hand achingly around the book, silently pleading to it for advice. A snort came from the Dragon's nostrils, a magnified version of a horse's, and little spurts of flame shot out and vaporized in the air. Steam seemed to be rising from the scorched grass, creating an odd misty shimmer that made Snape's surroundings feel surreal. Something about it vaguely and disturbingly reminded him of a peaceful afternoon spent on the lake as the dusky mist began to roll in.

The ground underneath his feet kept his wits stabilized, which had already been hindered by inhaling the thick smoke and torn apart by a stressful ten days. 

"You can do more than that, dimwit," the little voice said from his side. The book fell to the ground as he shot out his wand arm and said the next thing that came to his mind, a curse that was a little more familiar than it should have been.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" The green bolt shot out of the end of his wand and stretched like lightning across the space between Snape and the Dragon, but only managed to hit it square in the forehead and bounce to the ground. The Dragon shook its head as if it was trying to shake away a fly and gave another deafening roar.

Snape fought off the impulse to clasp his hands over his ears and instead repeated the curse, aiming for the Dragon's mouth. But he missed and hit it in the jaw. Ineffective.

It took a drunken, unbalanced step toward him, fuming angrily. A narrow spurt of flame barely missed the top of Severus's head as he fell down to duck it.

The next thing that came to mind, however, was the last thing he wanted to think about at a time like this.

Harry Potter. 

Dammit, Severus, he thought to himself. Now is _not_ the time to be thinking about your stupid, arrogant student! You have a more important person to think about! To _find_! 

Then he suddenly remembered. One of the Triwizard's tasks was battling a dragon to steal an egg. Potter had summoned his Firebolt to fly past the monster. There was no reason he couldn't do that now…

"_Accio_ Firebolt!" 

It was then that Severus thought that the nearest Firebolt would not be at Hogwarts, but at the broom shop, and the shopkeeper wouldn't be too happy to see his most valuable broom suddenly fly out the door. Oh well, he would probably thank Snape later. For saving his business and life, somehow.

It took another try before the Firebolt came to him, stopping in alert, ready, suspended in the air. He was just about to mount it when another spurt of fire burst from the Dragon's mouth. 

This time, it did not miss. 

Severus's leg caught aflame. He screamed in pain as it burned through his robes, taking its slow, sweet time to singe his leg hairs and begin to melt his pale skin. He dropped to the ground and began to smother the fire with his remaining robes, biting his tongue so hard that he could feel the blood rush through his mouth and the bile rising in this throat. Tears of pain pinpricked the corners of his eyes. He still clutched his wand in his hand. He kept flapping his robes over the injured leg, trying to diminish the last of the flames. His hand fell upon the discarded book, and he quickly and unthinkingly slipped it into the inside pocket of his robes. 

He hopped up from the ground onto one leg and clumsily mounted the broomstick. He could win this, he told himself. He had dealt with worse things than dragons. 

His right leg, in unthinkable pain that almost rivaled the Cruciatus, dangled limply as he kicked off, swerving haphazardly into the air. Another spurt of fire narrowly missed the already ruined part of his body. He clutched his wand at ready, threateningly, as he zoomed past the Dragon to the Shrieking Shack. He doubled back after almost crashing into one of the windows. Hiding in a building would do no good, it would be even an easier death trap as the Dragon could easily set it on fire.

Snape swept past the backside of the monster, teeth clenched in pain, and lingered over its head, looking for the best part to strike. There was no where on the head that would deem a soft enough spot of impact, the best parts to aim at were either the inside of the mouth, the belly, and the souls of the feet. There was no way he would be able to get underneath the Dragon, it's stomach loomed closely to the ground on short legs, and each foot was placed firmly on the ground. He examined the crown of the head carefully, trying to see if there were any ear holes into which he could project a curse.

It was then that he found something interesting.

No, not that it had ear holes. Which it did, actually, but that's not what caught his attention. 

It was what was above one of them. 

The dragon was purely green, except for this spot just above its left ear, where a black hourglass swept past and glimmered dimly in the smoke-filled day. The hourglass was knotted in the center, as if it were in the shape of a… 

A bow. 

Snape flew even closer, examining it carefully, and the Dragon gave off a groan in frustration that its plaything had disappeared. 

Snape approached so closely that he could reach out and touch the dark scales. It was then that he gave the dragon a swift kick in the eye with his good foot. 

"UMBRIDGE!" 

The roar stopped, and Severus could have sworn that he heard an irritated sniffle. 

"Umbridge," Severus said, more quietly but even harsher than previously. "I demand that you show yourself immediately." 

The Dragon suddenly seemed to shrink away from underneath him, until it had disappeared. No, it hadn't disappeared, it was cloaked behind a thick curtain of smoke. With a muttered _evanesco_ the smoke vanished and there stood the sniveling, toad-faced witch, rubbing her eye furiously, and a little flame licking at the corner of her robes was quickly squelched. Severus flew down to the ground to face the something-that-rhymes-with-witch squarely, remaining on the broom so that he didn't fall downward from his injured leg. 

"_What is this_?" He demanded, unraveling bandages from the end of his wand. They wrapped themselves firmly around his burned leg and he hissed in pain. "Why did you attack me? And _what are you doing here?_" 

"Hem, hem," Umbridge said in annoyance, peering up at him with large, bulging eyes. "I believe that is my own business, Professor." 

"About as much your business as it is mine, seeing that I almost lost my life thanks to a little psychotic streak of yours."

Insulted, Unbridge began to draw out her wand, but Severus had already beaten her to it. He held it so it pointed at her heart and glared at her with an uplifted eyebrow. 

"I'm not afraid to use Unforgivables," he muttered. 

She suddenly looked nervous. "I have to report you to the Ministry! Using Unforgivables on a defenseless witch-"

"HA! About as defenseless as a Dragon. Tell me, was this Animagus form currently acquired, or did you use the illegal dragon model _after_ you left the Ministry? I'm sure Fudge is dying to hear about his former favorite's little banned activities." 

Umbridge swallowed, obviously feeling threatened. She cleared her throat again, making Snape cringe. "I will report the curses that you use," she said, her voice heightening in pitch. "And you will go to Azkaban for this!" 

"You can't report me if you're dead," Snape replied, pressing the wand to her forehead. "And no one can see us in this nice little smoke box that you've created. Rather clever if I do say so, myself."

Snape knew that he didn't need bother to ask her her motives for such odd doings. She was crazy, she always had been. She didn't need motives. It was probable that doing this to him for the same reason that he had ruined his wedding: for fun. The woman, if she could even be called a woman, was insane. It must have been a childhood trauma of some sort, maybe she was such an ugly child that her parents wouldn't let her live out her fairy tales, so she took it out on other people.

"Oooh, this is _so_ illegal," she said in irritation. 

Severus inaudibly muttered a tracking charm before she disappeared with a loud crack, disapparating. Snape sighed and groaned in pain as he lurched forward through the newly unoccupied space, landing on his bad leg and tumbling to the ground. Like a faithful pet, the Firebolt flew to his attention, settling in the air where he could roll onto it from the ground. He did so, trying to set his aching, burning body upright as he fished the slightly charred book out of his robes and balanced it on his uninjured knee. 

"Well," he said in a dry voice as the knight looked up at him with obvious curiosity. "Now what?"

The knight peered to the side, looking through the leather cover to the Shrieking Shack. "Well, there's your castle right there."

"It's not much of a castle," Snape muttered. "What are you talking about?"

"Highest room in the tallest tower," he replied as Snape drifted to the entrance of the Shack, wondering how he would get in. "And when you get there, just do what you see fit. I'm taking my broad and leaving now," he added, picking the sleeping girl up in his arms and making his way toward the edge of the book. "You need your privacy."

Before Snape could protest, the knight and the princess were gone. He sighed.

The door opened with little effort and he burst into the living room of the ramshackle Shrieking Shack. It was just like how he remembered; the dust even looked the same.

He drifted on the Firebolt up the stairs, then up the next flight, thinking "highest room in the tallest tower, highest room in the tallest tower".

He dismounted the broom as he reached the second level. The doorways were too low to successfully go through in his current state of mind. He used the Firebolt as a walking stick and stumbled the many doorways to the end of the hall.

The door fell open as he touched the doorknob. He gasped as he took a careful step into the room. It was dazzling, completely dressed in a blinding white. A four-poster bed was placed in the center, with draping and blankets the color of fresh snow. Thorny vines from rosebushes snaked up the walls, and their pure white blooms burst open as if in celebration of his arrival. The sheer curtains at the windows fluttered in the breeze, which didn't carry any hint of smoke. 

And on the four-poster bed laid the sleeping form of Hermione, her hands folded on her stomach like the last time he had seen her, dressed in the robes she had previously been wearing. Her bushy mass of hair was spread around her, scattered with random petals from the roses. 

Barely daring to breathe, Severus approached the bed. Her knight in shining armor had arrived, dressed in robes that were half gone with a bandaged, burned leg and a piece of wood and a broom as his weapons. He couldn't help but feel a bit shabby in his surroundings. 

She seemed to mumble something in her sleep as he stood by the bed, gazing down at her. Her lips were pressed together in a peaceful slumber, her eyes closed in ease and her features the poster child of relaxation. Severus's fingers reached for her warm, soft hand and took it into his, relishing her touch after what seemed like an eternity without her. 

He stared at her eyelids, wishing above all wishes that they would open again so he could see her honest, brown eyes. With a deep, wistful sigh, the broom clattered to the floor and Severus bent down to give Hermione Granger the first kiss of his life. 

§§§

Thanks to: KDarkMaiden, NoName (hm...maybe? :P), Snape's Witch (oops, thanks), Antagonist Len, Rylee Smith, Meriadoc / Celithrathien (hehe), Kirkasstone, Anarane Anwamane, Evanescence (when I was first reading your review you scared me for a minute. My mind automatically put the two lines together and I read "what a horrible chapter!" until I read it in full. Stupid brain), Akasha Ravensong, Piggie, kik1324234, pineapple (argh, I was thinking eight dollars but than I changed it. Oh well), little-lost-one, Thunder-Goddess-905, Lady Shadowlight , Aindel S. Druida, the soul cage (mmm...Snahp), DarkShadowFlame (well...I guess this chapter answers most of your questions!), Zephyre (thank you. And yes, I like my Snapes just a bit snarky. They're better that way), Anarane Anwamane (again), Music/ Atropos (ooh, Johnny Depp), Lacewing, and Beccs! 

The French in the last chapter meant:

"J'espère que vous vous amusez!" - I hope that you enjoys yourselves!

"Ah, je vois. D'accord, vennez, s'il vous plaît." - Ah, I see. All right, come with me, please.

"Oh, j'ai oublié. Ici." - Oh, I forgot. Here.

"Ne dérangez pas, s'il vous plaît." - Do not disturb :) 

I'm sorry this chapter took so long. I was suffering from extreme writer's block on this story. Last chapter coming soon (hopefully)!


	8. The Wedding

Chapter Eight

_Wedding_

The kiss was brusque and didn't seem to evoke much emotion within Severus's gut, just as he had expected-kissing a sleeping girl, but an odd feeling had replaced it. Instead, he felt as though a hook had been placed behind his navel and was lurching him forward through space. 

He stumbled, trying to regain his balance and not fall on top of Hermione on the bed. But he didn't catch himself in time and lunged forward, arms flailing to try to soften his fall. But instead of falling onto a nice pile of soft bed and woman, he hit stone. Hard.

His heart was pounding as he sat up, rubbing his head irritably, to find that he had landed right in front of the staff table in the Great Hall. He looked around in confusion, scanning the hall with dark, narrowed eyes, and half-wondered where Hermione was.

"Hermione?" he muttered, his heart plunging. Maybe it had all been a dream, maybe he had passed out at Dumbledore's party and nothing had ever happened…

But no, everyone else around him looked just as confused, including the students who stared at him, and muttered among themselves. He also heard the familiar "I thought he was dead" from various tables in the room. Severus sighed.

"Severus, you missed the chair," Dumbledore said from behind the table, climbing slowly to his feet. He was wearing his dress robes, the ones he had worn to the party that was supposed to be Severus's wedding. 

Severus looked to his side to see two chairs, high-backed and upholstered in crimson, and one occupied by a very awake, very confused-looking Hermione Granger. She gazed at him, her eyes narrowed in perplexity. Then a soft sound escaped her lips, one that was the sweetest sound that Snape had ever heard, "Severus?"

He knew he couldn't walk, and the broomstick was back in Hogsmeade. He lurched himself up on the chair, gazing at the girl with something that the students couldn't believe resembled awe.

Dumbledore was muttering apologies and explanations to Severus and Hermione both, but neither of them seemed to take any notice. They stared at each other in amazement, and the entire student body gasped in disgusted unison when Snape's hand snaked over and grasped Miss Granger's in his own. 

"Terribly sorry about this whole mess," Dumbledore mumbled under his breath. "Umbridge was a complete surprise, though part of it _was_ a setup, I admit. Quite a good thing, though, I think. Turned out nicely…of course, we need to put that toad in jail before she causes any more problems, which I believe the Ministry is seeing too straight away…yes, the Portkey was a good idea, wasn't it?"

Dumbledore finally noticed that Hermione's hand was being held firmly in Snape's and smiled warmly. The rest of the people in the hall had pulled faces, and there were a few exclamations of "I think I'm going to be sick," and "Well, that's something you don't see everyday."

"Well," he said with the customary twinkle. "This _did_ work out nicely, didn't it?"

"You're a sick, sick man, Albus Dumbledore," McGonagall muttered from his side, pulling her hat over her eyes and slumping down in her chair.

"Yes, I am, aren't I? Severus! Hermione! Stand up!"

The two gazed over at him and Hermione pulled herself weakly to her feet, feeling odd from having spent so long in bed. Rose petals of both burgundy and snow were still scattered in her hair, unspoiled and perfectly placed to compliment her complexion. She still held Severus's hand shyly, ignoring the looks of shock she was gathering from her friends. Draco Malfoy seemed to be the only student that was smiling, if one could even call it a smile. 

She then noticed that Severus's leg was badly injured and he was looking at her with an expression that she had never seen him portray before: a mild plea for help.

She extended her arm and he grasped it firmly with his warm, large hand. Snape heaved himself to his feet while trying to put as little pressure on her as possible, and stood balancing on his good leg while still leaning a bit on Hermione for support. They remained silent, quietly confused and both wondering whether any words would spoil the moment that they had both been thrown into each other's company. 

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Dumbledore asked cheerily. With a snap of his fingers the Great Hall turned back into its arrangement as it had been on his announcement that Severus and Hermione were marrying. A fresh onslaught of flower petals fell from the ceiling and several people sneezed. Hermione grumbled something about being sick of flowers and about ready to tear the greenhouses to bits. 

Severus just smiled. And the entire student body of Hogwarts, in all its glory and grumbling about having their dinner taken away, stared in shock as a forbidden expression came over their hated Potions Master's face. 

Dumbledore lifted his hands into the air while McGonagall was slumped so far in a pew that she looked as if she would fall to the ground.

"Let the wedding begin!"

§

The afternoon had passed in a hurry, and after a reception in which the students were very cheery, but possibly only because they got to miss their last classes, Severus and his new bride barely had a possibility to talk to each other. When almost everyone had left for their respective abodes, Severus caught Hermione's eye from across the room and swallowed nervously. He thumbed pointedly toward the door and she nodded in understanding, then turned away.

Flitwick was in the middle of giving him a rather thorough and disturbing account of his own wedding night when Severus cut in, feeling incredibly rude but not really minding at all. "I hate to interrupt," Snape said smoothly, pulling at his collar. "But I really haven't gotten to speak to my wife in a number of days, and we would like to retire now."

He blushed and gave out a high-pitched squeak. "Oh, of course. I understand, Severus." He patted him on his good leg. "Best of luck, my boy."

"Erm, yes." Leaning on the cane that he had summoned early in the ceremony, Severus hobbled toward the door. Hermione quickly caught up with him and took his arm.

"Hi," she said shyly.

"Good evening, Hermione," he said, very aware and unused to the warmth that she was transferring to him. The skin underneath her hand tingled, while every part of his body down to his bruised bum and scorched leg burned in anticipation. The ring on her finger glittered occasionally as they walked past torches and candles in silence, obviously embarrassed about what they were thinking about, and what might happen next.

They reached Severus's private rooms and entered, and Hermione engrained his password in her mind. He began to give her a tour of his quarters, but as soon as they reached his bedroom, he hesitated. 

"Well, this is the bedroom. You are free to take it, for now. I will sleep on the couch…"

"No," she said stubbornly, furrowing her eyebrows. "You're my husband now. Even if this is one big, screwed up mess, I want to enjoy it." She smiled coquettishly, the shyness disappearing.

Severus's face flushed a very bright red. "I-I do not want to take advantage-"

Hermione released his arm and instead took his hand. She led him to the bed and kicked out the cane from underneath him. He fell onto the black satin, frowning. 

"Miss Granger, I assure you this is not very funny."

But she said nothing and laid down beside him, gazing into his eyes and reaching to his face to swipe away the hair from his face. His hand moved to her waist and migrated to her back, pulling her closer to him. Then, with a kiss that was much less chaste than the one applied to her both in the Shrieking Shack and at the wedding, he began to draw the blankets over them. 

"Hermione," he muttered, pulling away momentarily and beginning to unbutton his shirt. "Please tell me that you don't want ten children."

She looked at him in horror, and for a minute, Severus considered the possibility that she might crawl out of the bed and run screaming back to the Head Girl's room.

"What on earth gave you that idea?" 

He closed his eyes and sighed, then pulled her back to him and buried his face in her hair. "Never mind. Just…don't worry about it."

That very night, Severus resolved that he would never mention what Sybill Trelawney had said. Especially if she turned out right.

So, with a bit of reluctance from both parties, and many disgusted grimaces from the whole of Hogwarts, Severus and Hermione Snape lived happily ever after.

Of course, Severus will never admit that.

~The End~

My deepest thanks to: Anarane Anwamane, Draco-FutureBF, Raclswt, Ann-MCN, Melwasul (of course), Dues Ex (I know, I'm disappointed to. I'll have to finish my other stories...), fleria, sweetevangeline, baboon (yeah, I just like to think he's inexperienced. He's cuter that way :)), DarkShadowFlame (hmm...Shrek? I don't think I did. But it's very possible, I pretty much have that movie memorized), Zervius Snape (mmm...snogging), Rylee Smith, Joshua Glass (haha, that's why Hermione is there), the soul cage (his only love-life was with me. Poor man), Hogwarts, A History Girl, Doneril, sakhara291 (I think the one-word reviews must make me laugh. A lot), Silent Cobra, Danric-Lover, Madame Plot Bunnie (that's a good idea. I should have written the fairy tales. Of course, I've already done some of that...), Aindel S. Druida, Music/Atropos (same here :)), cherriebaby (the worst things can happen with the best intentions. Of course, I think Dumbledore was spot-on in his ideas on how they would be happy), Belladonna4, Ezmerelda (two challenges? The marriage law, too? Wow, that wasn't even intentional. I do, however, plan on writing one for that, but I'm going to try to make it different from all rest. Wish me luck!) and everyone who will review this chapter (since this is the last one and I won't have the opportunity to thank you later). It's so sad that this is over. I hope you enjoyed the last chapter.

~Wonk

P.S. If you're looking for something new to read, I suggest the one-shot I uploaded yesterday called "A Well-Known Cure", and Fairy Tale Trash (non-HP).

Other fics I recommend: 

A Blue Stocking Thing by JustJeanette

Red Satin and Christmas Pudding

And anything by Shiv

Also check out my favorite fics and authors.

Best of luck to you all, and I'll see you in my other fics.


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